Happy Birthday
by Red Hardy
Summary: Two months after the events in Vanished, Joe has been cleared to return to work and the Hardys are kept busy by a ring of jewel thieves and a series of seemingly random acts of violence - that turn out to be not so random. Complete summary in Chapter 1.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This story takes place approximately two months after _Vanished_.

**Summary: **Just as the Hardys break up a ring of jewel thieves a new case quickly materializes when a distraught father hires them to find the person who attacked and paralyzed his son, ending a promising NFL career.

Frank, Joe and Fenton quickly realize it was not a random act of violence, as more victims are discovered – each a highly gifted professional whose career was ended by the attack.

When Joe discovers the connection between all the victims, solving the case takes on a new sense of urgency as he comes to the shocking realization that someone he loves may be next on the list.

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 1**

Judge Simon Grant stared at the defendant not even attempting to hide his repulsion at this tragic turn of events.

"At times like this I realize we still have work to do on our criminal justice system. I wish to God I could sentence you to one hundred years in prison, as that is exactly where you deserve to be. However, my hands are tied. Make no mistake, Mr. Gregory, you are a most contemptible human being and deserve to spend the rest of your life rotting in the state penitentiary. But I have no choice but to drop the charges against you. You are free to go. And don't _ever_ let me see your face in my courtroom again."

With a bang of the gavel the court was adjourned. As the people slowly filed out of the courtroom, a heavy silence hung in the air.

Zane Gregory, a non-descript, sandy-haired man in his early thirties looked at his public defender, Colton Banks and smiled. "Thanks, man," he said insincerely.

"Don't thank me," Banks replied in disgust. "Judge Grant was right. Everyone knows you're guilty including me. You destroyed a young man's life in a drunken rage and for some ungodly reason got off scot-free. Take it for the sign that it is and straighten out your life. Get sober. But do it far away from here." He snapped his briefcase shut and left the courtroom.

"I just might do that," Gregory mumbled to himself. "I really hate this city."

…

Just a few yards away, New York City District Attorney Everett McConnell took a deep breath, trying to find the strength to face the couple directly behind him. Slowly he turned around, barely able to look them in the eye.

"I'm so sorry," he said, realizing how utterly ridiculous it sounded.

Surprisingly, the woman reached out and squeezed his hand. The horrific crime and ensuing trial had taken its toll on her. In her early fifties, she had often been mistaken for a woman of forty, but that was before the agonizing night that had torn her family apart. She now had the look of a woman much older than her years; a woman who had lost everything that was important in life.

"Thank you," Gloria Sansom said bravely, tears in her eyes. "You did the best you could. It wasn't your fault."

Glancing at the woman's husband, George Sansom, McConnell gasped at the look in the man's eyes. Seconds later it was gone and he wondered if maybe he had imagined it. He hoped so. Revenge was never the answer, although if an exception were to made this would be it. The criminal justice system had failed these people miserably, made worse by the fact that it was an honest mistake; a human error. George Sansom graced the D.A. with one curt nod before turning on his heel and exiting the courtroom.

oooOOOooo

Sixty-five miles away in the seaside town of Bayport, 23-year-old Joe Hardy sat across from his brother, one leg dangling over the arm of the chair, and stared at him with an impish grin.

Frank Hardy tried to remain focused on the computer screen on his desk, finding the weight of his brother's stare immensely distracting. "What are you staring at?" he finally asked in frustration, purposely keeping his eyes glued to the monitor.

"Just looking for the signs." Joe leaned forward slightly and squinted at his older brother.

Frank finally looked up. "Signs? What signs?"

"You know - the _signs_. Wrinkles. Gray hair. Bifocals," Joe replied, his blue eyes dancing with mischief.

Frank rolled his eyes in silent reply and returned his attention to the computer.

"Less than a month, bro." Joe shook his head in mock-sympathy.

"Shouldn't you still be under house arrest?" Frank countered.

Although he had spoken light heartedly, Frank still shivered whenever he thought about Joe's doctor-ordered month of complete rest, confining him to the apartment he shared with his fiancée, Vanessa Bender.

Almost two months earlier, while waiting for a flight home from O'Hare Airport in Chicago, Joe had stumbled onto an assassination plot against a U.S. Senator and the President of the United States. In the twenty-four hour period that followed his discovery, Joe had been kidnapped, tortured and severely beaten by the alleged assassins in an effort to get him to reveal what he had done with the information he had uncovered. Although Joe had managed to leave a brief message for Frank about his discovery, he had been critically injured before Frank and their father, Fenton Hardy, were finally able to locate him.

After almost two weeks in the hospital and another week recuperating at a local hotel until his doctor deemed him recovered enough to fly, three more weeks of bed rest at home had been ordered, which Joe had quickly dubbed his "house arrest". Under the watchful eye of his fiancée, Joe had not been able to leave the apartment one second earlier than recommended, despite his numerous failed attempts to sneak out.

Even with the rather lengthy convalescence, Joe still wasn't close to being one hundred percent recovered. A fact brought home to Frank with painful clarity when he caught a glimpse of the heavy elastic bandage peeking out from under the left arm of the long sleeved t-shirt Joe was wearing. He knew it began just below Joe's shoulder and stopped just above his wrist and was vital in helping Joe recover from the second-degree burns that had covered his arm.

"Hello? Earth to Frank?" Joe waved a hand in front of Frank's glazed over brown eyes, snapping him back to the present. "Man, where did you go?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry," Frank mumbled, not wanting to dredge up the painful memories for his brother, although he was sure the whole ordeal was still fresh in Joe's mind. "What did you say?"

"I said I was paroled two weeks ago. And you're just trying to change the subject."

"What subject?" Frank said, attempting to sound defensive, not wanting to disrupt Joe's good-natured teasing, happy to see his brother finally starting to act like his old self again. Lately Frank had been catching frequent glimpses of the happy, carefree, wise-cracking brother he hadn't seen much of since the beginning of the year.

"See. It's started already," Joe said knowingly. "The memory is the first thing to go."

"Don't you have work to do?" Frank asked in exasperation.

"I am working. I'm helping you," Joe retorted, swinging his leg back and forth.

Frank looked at his brother in disbelief. "That's what you call this? Helping?"

"Hey, the doctor said I couldn't do anything too strenuous yet," Joe replied in his own defense.

"I see. And that's why I saw you playing one on one with Biff the other day, right?"

Joe grinned. "That was physical therapy."

"Uh-huh." Frank picked up a large manila envelope from the corner of his desk and tossed it to Joe. "Make yourself useful. I stopped by a couple of pawn shops this morning and picked these up," he explained as Joe opened the envelope and pulled out several eight-by-ten color photographs. "See if you can find anything matching a description of the stolen jewelry."

"You can change the subject but you can't change the fact," Joe said ominously as he began looking through the pictures.

"And what fact would that be?" Frank knew he was playing right into Joe's hands and enjoyed every minute of it.

"Face it, Frank. In less than a month you're going to be twenty-five."

"So?"

Joe looked up, grinning wickedly. "That's a quarter of a century old, big brother. Shoot, you're almost ancient history."

"This coming from the guy who is all of one year younger than me," Frank said sarcastically.

"Yup. And no matter how old you get I will _always_ be younger than you!" Joe replied smugly.

Frank couldn't suppress a smile at his brother's teasing, realizing how much he had missed it.

"So, what do you want for your birthday?" Joe asked only a bit more seriously. "Maybe I'll even splurge and get you something besides socks this year. After all it is a milestone."

Frank had been asked that question by most of his friends and family in recent weeks and hadn't given it much thought until it was posed by his younger brother. As he looked at Joe it occurred to him there wasn't anything he really wanted.

When Joe had been abducted and almost died from the beating he had taken, Frank only wanted him to recover. Aside from some mild scarring on his left arm, and given a little more time, Joe _was_ expected to make a full recovery. As far as Frank was concerned, nothing could top that gift.

Frank's family had forgiven Callie for the inadvertent part she had played in Vanessa's kidnapping several months earlier, and even Joe was willingly giving her the chance to earn back his trust. Another prayer answered.

Vanessa's progress in dealing with having been raped at the beginning of the year was better than anyone had expected, despite several setbacks that would have left anyone else reeling. After a rocky start, Joe had been making great strides in therapy in dealing with the trauma he had suffered as a little boy and only remembered when he had been on trial for murdering Vanessa's rapist. They still had "bad days" but Frank could definitely see a change for the better. He realized Joe and Vanessa seemed more and more like their old selves. Yet another wish granted.

Watching as Joe perused the pictures in his lap, Frank knew there was only one thing he truly wanted for his birthday. Yet it wasn't his for the asking. Like Callie, he knew he had to earn back what he wanted – Joe's complete and total trust. But he was becoming more confident that, with time and patience, he would do just that.

"Well?" Joe pressed him, having lost interest in the pictures. "You must want something."

"Nah," Frank said quietly. _'I've already got everything I could possibly want...'_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** There's a blanket disclaimer on my profile page but I forgot to put it on this story so here goes – I DON'T OWN 'EM! Okay? Okay. ;-)

Thank you so much to No1butjoe, MissMe113, Miss Fenway, AZ Writer, franknjoe, Nomi (hope you're starting to feel better!), Helen, Calathiel, josie and Cheryl (Super WalMart opened half a mile down the road. Our days are numbered…) for your kind reviews!

Thanks to everyone who is taking the time to read. I hope you enjoy the story. :-)

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 2**

The following morning, Frank sat at the table sipping coffee and reading the day's paper.

"Oh, man. That's terrible," he murmured, scanning a front-page article.

"What's terrible?" his wife Callie asked, taking a seat opposite him. The petite blonde with brown eyes looked at him curiously.

"You know that Sansom case in New York City?"

"Mm-hmm. You've been following it pretty closely. A young man about your age was beaten by some guy he accidentally bumped into on the street. The guy went into a drunken rage and beat him so badly he was left with severe brain damage, right?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Blake Sansom. He was something of a child prodigy. An IQ so high he was almost off the charts. He was a medical researcher but could have done just about anything he wanted. The news reports said he was working on a vaccination against AIDS and he was getting close. The guy was brilliant." Frank shook his head sadly. "Now he has the IQ of a five-year-old. And he's a quadriplegic."

"That is sad. But all that information was in a previous article, wasn't it?" Callie asked puzzled.

"Yeah. I was referring to the outcome of the trial."

"The whole thing was caught on tape, wasn't it? One of those downtown surveillance cameras took it, if I remember correctly. It was pretty much an open and shut case."

"With the videotape, yes. But apparently the police evidence room was renovated and in the shuffle all the physical evidence for the case was accidentally thrown out with the trash. They had nothing to prosecute with. The guy kept insisting he didn't do it, the victim can't testify and there were no witnesses. The case had to be thrown out," Frank concluded, with disgust.

"What?!" Callie cried out, horrified.

"That was his third arrest for a violent crime, too. He would've gotten heavy prison time under the three strikes law. Instead, he got off scot-free." Frank folded the paper and shook his head sadly. "I can't even imagine what his family is going through."

"Oh, that's awful! He was an only child wasn't he?"

"Yes. His parents must be devastated." Frank checked his watch and stood up. "Gotta run. I'll call if I won't be home for dinner." He gave Callie a goodbye kiss and headed out the door.

oooOOOooo

Frank arrived at work to find Joe and Fenton huddled over the conference table discussing something in earnest. Joe looked up when he heard Frank walk in. One look at his younger brother told Frank he was obviously annoyed at something.

"There was another burglary last night," Joe said, not bothering to greet his brother.

"Another one?" Frank asked in disbelief, taking a seat next to Joe.

"Mm-hmm." Fenton pushed a paper across the table towards Frank. "Exact same M.O."

A recent flood of jewelry thefts had been sweeping the wealthiest section of Kirkland, a neighboring town of Bayport. Homes had been broken into while the owners were away for the evening or out of town. The only things stolen were large collections of very expensive jewelry. There was one thing all the victims had in common – they all insured their homes and possessions through a company called Liberty Insurance.

Many others who lived in the same area, some with much more valuable jewelry collections but who did not have insurance through Liberty, had not been victimized. Sensing one of their employees who had access to the policies might be committing the crimes, the insurance company had hired the Hardys to find the person responsible.

Frank, Joe and Fenton had all thought it appeared to be a pretty straightforward and simple case of catching the person on the "inside" who was planning and/or committing the crimes. Joe had even commented about how stupid the thief had to be as it was apparent someone working at Liberty Insurance had to be involved. However, as the burglaries began to mount, it became obvious that solving the crime wasn't going to be as easy as they had initially thought.

Frank glanced at Fenton as he picked up the police report, noting the frustration in his father's eyes. He suddenly realized how wrong they had all been when they first accepted this case. Initially, it appeared they would be able to apprehend the suspects fairly quickly and there seemed to be almost no element of danger involved – perfect for Joe's first case back after almost two months off.

'_Then again that's what we all thought about sending Joe to Chicago for one day.'_ Frank shuddered at the disastrous turn of events that assignment had taken before returning his attention to the report.

Frank whistled when he saw the list of items that had been taken. "Wow! They must be raking in the money." He looked up, thoughtfully tapping his chin. "But how are they getting rid of the stuff? It hasn't turned up in any of the pawn shops and we've checked all the neighboring towns."

"Black market?" Joe suggested.

"Possibly. I'll have Sam check on that angle," Fenton replied, referring to his assistant Sam Radley. "In the meantime I'll go to the Kirkland police department and talk to the officers who responded to the call. You two go talk to the victim. The insurance company told them we'd be contacting them so they'll be expecting you."

oooOOOooo

Joe got into the car, slamming the door in disgust. He and Frank had just finished interviewing the latest victim who told them the exact same story all the previous victims had – they'd gone out for the evening, no one else was home and when they returned home they found their house had been broken into, the safe opened and all the jewelry was gone. Nothing else had been stolen and virtually no evidence had been left behind.

"Hey, easy on the car there." Frank looked at him, annoyed. "Try and leave the door on the hinges, okay?"

"Sorry. This just getting really old, ya know? Whoever is doing this is making fools of us."

"It certainly does seem that way, although I doubt that's their primary motive." Frank glanced at his brother who was staring out the window.

His heart tightened for a moment when he noticed Joe was gently rubbing his left arm, something Frank had noticed he'd been doing with increasing frequency lately, and wondered if maybe it wasn't healing as well as Joe wanted everyone to believe. Recalling the way Joe had flinched the few times Chicago had been mentioned since they'd arrived back home, he decided not to say anything.

"Did you see that article in the paper this morning about the Sansom case in New York City?" Frank asked.

"No. But Vanessa read it and told me about it. Can you believe it?! They threw out the evidence!" Joe exclaimed. "_Threw it out!"_ he repeated for emphasis. "That Sansom guy has to spend the rest of his life in what amounts to an adult day care center and the jerk who did it gets to walk. Sometimes I wonder about our criminal justice system."

"It was human error, Joe. Nobody's perfect. And while our system may leave something to be desired, it's still the best in the world."

"Yeah, I guess. But his parents must be beside themselves. Van said he was an only child and a real genius. Every parent's dream. Sort of like you," Joe cracked.

"I'm not an only child, although there have been times I wished I was," Frank teased. "And I'm far from a genius."

"Yeah, right, Mr. Valedictorian of _both_ your high school and college graduating classes," Joe snorted. "And then there's me…"

"Every parent's worst nightmare?" Frank joked.

Joe threw his brother a dirty look. "I was thinking more along the lines of comic relief."

"That's for sure," Frank laughed, pulling into the parking lot of one of his favorite restaurants.

"What are we doing here?" Joe asked.

"Getting lunch. I told Dad we'd pick something up on the way back. We can compare notes while we're eating."

They went into the restaurant and placed their orders. Frank took a seat on one of the benches to wait while Joe restlessly paced the take-out lobby area. As Frank watched his brother walking around absently reading the notices posted on the walls, Joe once again began to rub his left arm, almost as if he didn't even realize he was doing it. Frank remained silent, but made a mental note to ask his father if he had noticed it too. A few moments later, their order was ready and the brothers made their way back to the office, where they found Fenton waiting for them.

Frank and Fenton began taking the food out of the bags while Joe retreated to the kitchen to get drinks for them. Seizing the opportunity, Frank posed his question to Fenton.

"Dad, have you noticed Joe seems to be favoring his left arm lately?" Frank asked evidently concerned about it.

"You mean the way he rubs it all the time?" Fenton replied.

"So you have noticed it."

"It's a little hard to miss," Fenton admitted. "I didn't tell Joe, but I called his therapist – both of them," he emphasized, indicating he thought there could be a psychological reason for Joe's strange new habit.

"Legally, they couldn't tell you anything, could they? Especially Linda," Frank said, referring to the therapist Joe had been seeing to help him deal with the mental and emotional repercussions of a childhood kidnapping, Vanessa's rape and, Frank hoped, what he had endured during his hellish ordeal in Chicago.

"Technically, no. Linda did say it could just be a new subconscious habit he picked up that manifests itself whenever he thinks about what happened with Rashman and Malick."

"So at least he's talking to her about it," Frank said, relieved. He'd been afraid Joe would keep it all inside and try to deal with everything on his own.

"Apparently. And Liza said the therapy for his arm is coming along just as they had hoped," Fenton finished, referring to the therapist Joe saw a few times a week for his arm. "She said it's painful, but unfortunately that's to be expected."

"So, I'm probably worrying for nothing."

"Probably," Fenton smiled. "But it can't hurt to keep an eye on him."

"Speaking of which, I'll go see if he needs any help with those drinks," Frank replied and headed off to the kitchen.

oooOOOooo

Joe eyed the pill in his hand with disgust, hating what had led to his dependence on them. Popping it into his mouth, he downed it with a few gulps of water. Placing the glass in the sink, he stared out the window and wondered how long he would be a slave to them.

…

Standing in the doorway of the kitchen, Frank watched in silence, unable to believe what he had just seen. Quickly moving back into the hall, he leaned heavily against the wall feeling as if he'd been punched in the stomach.

'_Drugs!'_

Frank immediately recalled the day in Chicago when Joe had turned to prescription painkillers to dull the mental and emotional pain he was in. He had sworn to Frank it was one isolated incident and he would never do it again…

_"It was one time, Frank!" Joe cried out, defensively. "It's not like I was taking some drug I bought on the streets!"_

_"It doesn't matter whether the drug was legal or not, Joe!" Frank yelled, now genuinely afraid that Joe thought what he did was okay. "You could still get addicted before you know it!"_

_Joe sighed and leaned back against the pillows. "Look, between giving my statement and thinking you didn't care… I needed to escape."_

_"I know you'd never consciously use drugs on a daily basis, but even trying it just once to help you cope… Joe, you could be addicted before you know it."_

_Joe simply looked at him and scowled._

_"It helped, didn't it?" Frank said softly. "Made the pain go away. In fact, it probably felt pretty good, right?"_

_Joe hesitated._

_"Right?" Frank pressed him._

_"Yes," Joe admitted grudgingly._

_"And that's exactly why you can't even consider doing it again! If things get too hard I'll help you deal with it. I'll hold your hand; I'll listen to you yell; I'll be your punching bag. But you have to promise me you will never, ever turn to drugs again no matter how bad it hurts," Frank begged his voice shaking now. _

_Once again, Joe remained silent._

_"Joe, please! You're scaring me!"_

_Joe looked at his brother and could plainly see how scared Frank was for him. _

_"Promise me. Right now. You will never, ever use drugs again – of any kind – to run away from your problems," Frank implored his brother. "Please, Joe…"_

_"I promise," Joe sighed. "No more drugs. If there's something I can't deal with, you'll be the first to know." _

'_I guess it wasn't just once,'_ Frank thought, absolutely devastated.

With a sinking feeling, Frank realized he couldn't possibly confront Joe about what he had just seen. The one thing Frank wanted more than anything was to regain Joe's complete, total and unconditional trust. He knew he was making progress. The open and honest talks they'd had while Joe was hospitalized in Chicago had been proof of that… hadn't they?

Joe had promised him, emphatically, no more drugs – ever. If he were to question Joe now about what he had just witnessed, asking Joe point blank if he were taking drugs, there would be no turning back. No second chances. Joe would never trust him again.

'_He promised he'd come to me before he turned to drugs,'_ Frank reminded himself. _'He promised. There's __**got**__ to be another explanation.'_

Still one thought ate away at Frank…what if Joe _didn't_ trust Frank enough just yet to confide in him, regardless of what he had promised in Chicago?

'_No. He gave me his word. I'm the one who can't be trusted, not him. I have to trust him. I __**will**__ trust him.' _

Frank shoved the little voice in his head into a tiny room in the far corner of his mind and slammed the door shut, ignoring the feeling that he was making a big mistake. He would believe in his younger brother, no matter what his eyes told him he just saw. He had no choice. The last time Frank chose to believe what he saw, instead of going with his heart and trusting his brother, he had almost lost Joe for good. With a heavy heart, he turned and slowly walked away.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! Life is crappy. :-( You guys aren't!! :D Thank you for always, always, ALWAYS putting a smile on my face. :-) You rock.

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 3**

The following morning found Frank and Joe once again looking over both the police reports and insurance claims from each theft, hoping to find the elusive clue that would break the case.

They had been working in relative silence when Joe threw a piece of paper onto the pile in disgust. "You know it would be easier to find a needle in a haystack. At least then we'd know what it is we were looking for," he commented, rubbing his eyes. "I think I'm cross-eyed from looking at all these reports – over and over and over again!"

"Why don't you take a break," Frank suggested, not quite as frustrated as his brother was.

Glad to take Frank up on the offer, Joe comfortably stretched himself out on the couch in the office and closed his very tired eyes. "You really think there's something in those reports that we're missing?"

"Honestly, I don't know. But there has to be something else all the victims have in common besides the same insurance company. Every house was robbed when no one was home. Sometimes it was a vacation, sometimes a play, the opera, a dinner party…all planned absences. But how would the insurance company know when the people would be out?" Frank mused.

He glanced briefly at Joe and then did a double take. Joe's left arm was resting across his chest and Joe was gently rubbing it with his right hand. Recalling what his father had said the day before, that it could be a subconscious reaction whenever Joe was thinking about what had happened to him in Chicago, Frank felt the all too familiar feelings of hatred, rage and revenge. The unsettling emotions that always accompanied thoughts of Joe's kidnapping two months earlier came bubbling to the surface, but Frank regained control in short order, refusing to be dictated to by his emotions. Burying them deep inside, Frank quickly returned to scrutinizing the reports.

"There has to be something here that we're not seeing," Frank murmured, thinking aloud.

"Who knows?" Joe mumbled. "Maybe the butler did it."

Frank chuckled, as he placed one report back on the table and picked up another. Then he froze. "Joe…what did you say?" He felt as if his brain had suddenly been pushed into overdrive.

"I said maybe the butler did it," Joe repeated. He cracked one eye open and then sat up. "Uh-oh. I can see the smoke coming out of your ears. Did you figure it out?"

"No." Frank grinned. "_You_ did!"

"I did?" Joe asked, confused, before quickly changing tactics. "Of course I did. Uh, what is it exactly that you think I figured out?"

Frank grinned like a Cheshire cat, knowing Joe had no clue what he was talking about. "Come on, don't be so modest, Joe," he teased. "Tell me, how did you figure it out?"

Joe rolled his eyes, not in the mood for one of Frank's guessing games. "Frank, I have a splitting headache and we both know I have no idea what you're talking about. So why don't you be a good little boy and share, huh?"

Frank simply smiled as he picked up the pile of reports and returned to his desk. He began methodically dividing them up into two stacks, glancing at his brother and noting the frustration evident on his face.

"Okay, all the victims live in Kirkland, specifically on the east side of Kirkland. In mansions on the bay or overlooking the ocean."

"So? That still doesn't tell us how the thieves knew when they'd be out."

"Think about it, Joe."

"Why? That's what I have you for," Joe replied, hating when Frank did this to him.

Frank ignored Joe's comment. "All the victims are wealthy."

"Of course they're wealthy. How else could they afford all that jewelry?" Joe stated the obvious.

"Exactly. And if they're wealthy and can afford all that jewelry, what else can they afford?" Frank prodded him.

"I don't know. But if you don't tell me soon I'm gonna tell Mom you're teasing me again," Joe said smugly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Frank stared at his brother for a moment and then burst out laughing.

Joe shook his head. "I don't know what you're laughing at. You know she'll give you a time out."

"You always were a little snitch," Frank said still laughing. He fondly recalled the many times when they were children and he would tease Joe about something. Usually Joe would get so upset he'd go running to Laura in tears. Frank always ended up getting a lecture on why he should be setting a good example for his younger brother instead of teasing him, which would immediately be followed by a time out. Inevitably, Joe, now having no one to play with, would get bored and sneak into Frank's room to keep him company during his time out.

"And you always got in trouble," Joe reminded him. "Come on, Frank, give. I have a killer headache."

"Domestic help," Frank replied simply.

"Domestic help?" Joe repeated.

"Most of the people who live in that area of Kirkland have domestic help. Cooks, house cleaners who come in on a regular basis."

"Who better to know when they'd be out!" Joe said excitedly, now understanding what Frank was talking about. "And if they all have domestic help and they all use the same company…"

"There's our connection!" He picked up one stack of reports and held them out to Joe. "You call these people, I'll call the rest. Ask if they have any kind of help that comes in on a regular basis and if so get the name of the employee and the name of the company who sent them."

Joe gladly took the papers and retreated to his own office, happy to finally be doing something besides looking at reports. Close to thirty minutes later, as he was on his last phone call, Joe looked up to see Frank coming into his office, reports in hand.

"Yes, Mrs. Lamkin. Thank you for your help. Goodbye." He hung up the phone, looking up at his brother and could tell by the look on Frank's face he had gotten the same answer Joe did. "Granston Domestics," Joe blurted out before Frank could say a word. "Every single victim had some type of domestic help that came in regularly and they all contracted with Granston Domestics."

"I got the exact same response from my people. Now we just have to figure out who in Granston Domestics is working with the jewel thieves," Frank concluded. "Did you get a list of the employee's names?"

"Mm-hmm." Joe handed Frank a handwritten list. "What now?" he asked as Frank looked over the names.

"In the interest of saving your eyesight - and your sanity – I'll put these names into my computer and match them against the list of employees from the insurance company and see if anything turns up," Frank replied, knowing Joe would probably kill him if he asked Joe to look at more paperwork.

"Let's go." Joe stood up and followed his brother back to his office.

A short time later, Joe stood peering over Frank's shoulder, getting more dejected by the minute. "Nothing matches."

"I know," Frank replied, disappointed. "I thought there might be one of the domestic employees who had some connection to one of the employees at the insurance company."

Joe's eyes suddenly lit up. "Maybe there is."

"But there isn't." Frank pointed at the monitor.

"But there still could be." Joe smiled haughtily, realizing that his brother didn't know what he meant.

Frank sighed, knowing he was about to have the tables turned on him.

"Think about it, Frank," Joe teased, using the exact same words and tone Frank had used on him. "You're an intelligent guy. I'm sure you can figure it out if you just try."

"I'm sure I can too. And you've made your point," Frank conceded. "So in the interest of saving time, why don't you just tell me." He waited a beat. "Otherwise I'll have to tell Mom you're teasing me."

"It won't matter." Joe grinned wickedly. "I'm the baby. I don't have to set an example for anybody."

Frank slumped back in the chair and threw his brother a dirty look. "Mom and Dad should have stopped at one. Then I'd be an only child and I could live my life in peace."

"And you'd be bored to tears," Joe told him and watched Frank respond with a wry smile. "Okay," Joe continued, finally offering up his theory. "What if it's not one of the employees who actually goes out to the homes? What if it's someone who works in the _office_ of Granston Domestics? Someone who does the scheduling, maybe?"

"Right! The clients would have to let the scheduler know they wouldn't be home so they wouldn't send anyone out to the house!" Frank abruptly stood up and smiled at his brother. "I think it's time we paid a visit to Granston Domestics."


	4. Chapter 4

Calathiel: I much prefer the pain-killing effect of chocolate myself! :p And thank you for your comments on the humor/comedy. I'm so glad you enjoy those parts of the story. :-)

MissMe113: I just realized there is yet another 'G' name in this chapter! :o And as soon as I realized that I immediately thought of you!! :D Apparently I was obsessing on the letter 'G' when I wrote this story! LOL!

Franknjoe: LOL no one getting shot! :p

TraSan: I find the mystery part of a story the hardest part to figure out and write so I was pretty jazzed that I actually came up with a crime AND how to solve it! LOL! Yay for the 'real mystery'! :p

Iola Hardy: OMG!!! I ADORE _Pearl Harbor_!!! So much so that my best friend just recently gave me the 60th anniversary edition DVD of the movie!! And I've watched it three times in the past two weeks – and again when it was on t.v. last night!! (And I was AMAZED at how much of the movie they cut out for television. Boo!) I can totally see Frank and Joe in the Rafe and Danny roles (though I doubt Joe would sleep with Frank's girlfriend even if he thought Frank was dead! LOL! But it works for Rafe, Danny and Evelyn! :p) YAY for another _Pearl Harbor_ fan!

No1butjoe: Thanks! Glad you like the humor. :-)

Pally: I'm glad the wait was worth it for you. LOL! :p

Miss Fenway: LOL your Clue reference! I loved it! And thanks for the offer. ;-)

Josie: Your comments ALWAYS make me laugh! And I didn't realize until you mentioned it that you were reading two Red stories at once! You poor thing! :p And no, you haven't read the other one anywhere else. The only person who has read that whole story is Phoenix as it was a gift for her. ;-)

Thank you to all who are reading. :-)

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 4**

Volunteering to drive, Joe took the now familiar route to Kirkland and pulled into the parking lot of Granston Domestics less than an hour later. Prior to their leaving, Frank had called and spoken to the manager, explaining who they were and why they wanted to meet with her. She gladly agreed to their request and they soon found themselves seated in her office.

Gazing around, Frank smiled inwardly at the neat surroundings, with not so much as a paper clip out of place.

"Thank you for meeting with us, Ms. Rawlins," Frank said graciously.

"Believe me, if one of our employees is involved in these thefts I want to know about it. Granston Domestics has a spotless reputation which is why so many of the more well to do families trust us to come into their homes," Greta Rawlins replied, her dark eyes flashing. "Now, how can I help you?"

"We've already spoken with all the victims and found they all contract with your company for some type of domestic help," Joe explained. "We did get the names of the employees and matched them against the employees at the insurance company, hoping we might come across a match of some kind but it didn't pan out."

"Then we realized it might be someone who works here in the offices rather than someone who actually goes out to the homes," Frank continued. "We were hoping to get a complete list of employees that we could match up to the list of employees we have from the insurance company."

"Certainly." Greta inserted a blank disc into the computer. "All I ask is that you keep it confidential."

"Of course."

"Would it be possible to get a schedule for any of your clients in the Bay Estates or Ocean View areas of Kirkland ?" Joe requested.

"Yes, no problem," Greta replied, her fingers working the keyboard. "Did you want a hard copy of the employee list also?"

"Just of the schedule," Joe replied, quickly. "And if you could look it over and point out any homes that have cancelled a regularly scheduled visit for the next week or so, that would be a big help."

Frank smiled at his brother, not having thought of having the manager basically point out when the next theft might possibly occur.

A moment later she popped the disc out of the computer and handed it over to Frank, then reached down to the printer under the desk and retrieved the schedule for the next two weeks. Taking a red pen from a drawer, she circled three different dates on the schedule before handing it over to Joe.

"Those are people who normally have help come in every day, but on the days I have indicated, they've notified us they'll be out and won't be needing it that particular night."

"Thanks." Joe took the schedule and scanned the dates and names.

"Anything else?" Greta asked, helpfully.

"I think that's it for now. Thank you very much." Frank stood and extended his hand.

"You're welcome." Greta shook hands with both Frank and Joe. "Please let me know if there's anything else I can do. And please keep me informed of your progress."

"We will," Joe replied before following his brother out the office door.

As they walked down the hall, Frank noticed a rest room and indicated towards the door. "I'll meet you in the lobby."

"Okay." Joe continued on down the hall.

A few moments later Frank emerged into the lobby, empty except for his brother, and stopped short, gasping inwardly. He watched as Joe, his back to Frank, popped a pill into his mouth and washed it down with a cup of water from the cooler.

The little voice in his head began screaming at him that Joe was indeed taking prescription drugs for something other than their intended purpose. _The proof is right in front of you_, the voice told him. _You saw it with your own eyes. If you really love your brother, you'll confront him and get him the help he needs, no matter how mad he gets._

"Ready?" Joe's voice, cut through Frank's morbid thoughts. Without waiting for an answer, Joe turned and walked out the door. Frank hesitated for just a moment before following.

Walking a few steps behind Joe, his head was spinning. _'I can't confront him. I know what I saw…what I __think__ I saw. But what if I'm wrong, again? I can't risk it.'_ Watching as Joe unlocked the car and started to get behind the wheel Frank was gripped with fear.

'_But what if I'm right? I can't let him drive!'_ Frank thought, panicking, not sure what to do. "Joe, wait!" he cried out.

"What?" Joe stopped, looking at his brother closely. "Are you alright, Frank? You don't look so good, man."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Frank replied, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "Why don't you let me drive home?"

Joe looked at his brother as if he'd asked Joe to jump off a bridge. "You're kidding, right? Nobody drives my baby. You know that." Joe smiled, patting the roof of his car affectionately.

"Oh, come on, Joe. It's me. If you can't trust me with your car, who can you trust?" Frank tried to cajole him, hoping his voice sounded light. "Besides, you'll be right there next to me."

"All the more reason you can't drive. That would make me crazy, sitting next to someone else while they were driving _my_ baby," Joe said adamantly.

"How many times have I let you drive my car?" Frank pressed him.

"Uh-uh. No way." Joe shook his head, turning once again to get in the car.

"But you let Vanessa drive it once!" Frank cried out, grabbing Joe's arm.

Joe's face clouded over. "_Once_. Out of necessity." It had been a few days before she had been raped and Joe was not at all happy with Frank for reminding him of it.

"Get in the car, Frank." Joe pulled his arm away. "Because I'm leaving, with or without you." Getting behind the wheel, Joe slammed the door shut and sat glaring out the window.

Realizing he had lost that battle, Frank quickly ran to the passenger side and got in, now more torn than ever. He desperately wanted to come out and ask Joe what the pills were but he knew doing so could result in his losing Joe's trust forever, and that was a risk he wasn't willing to take just yet.

Joe started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, his eyes never leaving the road in front of him.

'_Great, now he's mad at me,'_ Frank thought. _'Maybe if I just remind him I'm here, that he knows he can come to me…he promised he'd come to me if there was anything he couldn't handle.' _

"Joe?" Frank asked quietly, testing the waters.

"What?" Joe didn't really sound angry but not exactly happy either.

"If something were bothering you, if there was a problem or something you couldn't handle…you'd tell me about it, right? Like you promised…in Chicago." Frank watched Joe out of the corner of his eye. He saw Joe stiffen instantly and grip the steering wheel a little harder at the mention of Chicago and felt the familiar rush of anger. They'd heard nothing from the detectives or District Attorney in Chicago about when the trial of Joe's abductors might be and Frank hoped it could be put off indefinitely. Joe's reaction made Frank realize his brother wasn't even close to being ready – mentally or emotionally – to testify against the men who had tortured him.

"I'm fine," Joe finally replied, adding, "But I'm not so sure about you," under his breath.

Thinking back on the day before when he had seen Joe taking the pills right before lunch, Frank realized there had been no noticeable change in Joe's behavior. If they had indeed been drugs surely he would have seen something, some kind of change in Joe, wouldn't he?

'_Then there must be some other explanation,'_ Frank thought, sitting back. Still, the little voice in his head kept nagging at him and he found he never took his eyes off Joe for the entire drive back to Bayport.


	5. Chapter 5

Miss Fenway:

Helen: LOL the short 'interlude' from angst! :p Obviously you know me too well. And you are very right about the Sansom case… ;-)

MissMe113: YAY!!! The dolphmunk is back!!! I've missed him! :p And ooh, I've had the review page do that bouncy thing to me, too! It's enough to give you a migraine!

Polaris: LOL! I've done the same thing with forgetting to check for new stories. :p And I was just THRILLED when I realized I could work in "The butler did it." so I'm glad someone else was just as easily amused by it as I was!! :D

Pally: Thanks for the review! :-)

Calathiel: Maybe you and Frank can be in a tizzy together. ;-)

Alicia: I'm one of two middle children in a family of four – we always get forgotten and never have to set an example either!! :p

Josie: "You're going to use a public restroom? Have you not been paying attention?" OMG!!! You get the award for the best review ever!! LOL!! I never even thought of that! I laughed out loud when I read that comment!! :D

Only one more chapter before we find out exactly what those pills are that Joe keeps popping. ;-)

Thanks for the awesome reviews! You guys ALWAYS make me smile – and usually laugh out loud!

Thank you to everyone who is reading. :-)

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 5**

Joe paced the floor in front of Frank's desk, every once in a while taking a detour behind the desk to peer over Frank's shoulder at the computer monitor. Frank had taken the disc with the list of employees from Granston Domestics that Greta Rawlins gave them the previous afternoon and downloaded it onto his computer. He was now running a search of that list and the list of employees from Liberty Insurance hoping they'd find a match.

"Try not to wear a hole in the carpet, huh?" Frank teased.

Joe gave his brother a dirty look. "I thought computers were supposed to be fast," he complained. "How long is this going to take?"

"Just a few minutes," Frank replied, amused at Joe's irritation with the computer. "Of course if it's not working fast enough for you I could print the lists out and you could look them over yourself," he offered. "That should only take a few…_hours_."

"Very funny." Joe wrinkled his nose and threw himself into a chair.

In an effort to distract Joe from the 'uncooperative' computer, Frank asked, "What did Ben Clarkson say when you called?" referring to their contact at Liberty Insurance.

"He said he'd check the list of policy holders in Kirkland where the burglaries occurred and email me the names of anyone who has jewelry insured with them."

A 'ding' sounded from Frank's computer and Joe vaulted from the chair and was instantly standing behind Frank looking over his shoulder. Watching his brother's reaction, Frank couldn't help but be reminded of Pavlov's dog and chuckled to himself.

"What's so funny?" Joe asked with a slight scowl.

Frank debated telling him, but thought better of it. "Nothing," he said, turning back to the monitor, deciding Joe wouldn't find it the least bit amusing being compared to a trained dog.

"Well? Did it find a match?" Joe asked impatiently.

"Did it ever!" Frank grinned and moved a little so Joe could get a better view.

"Steven Lyzarczyk, Agent, Liberty Insurance," Joe read and then shifted his gaze slightly. "Jennifer Lyzarczyk, Office Administration, Granston Domestics. Yes!!" Joe shouted triumphantly, pumping a fist in the air as Frank couldn't help but laugh at his brother's enthusiasm.

"Let me go see if Clarkson sent those names yet," Joe said excitedly and seconds later he was gone.

Shaking his head at Joe's seemingly endless supply of energy, Frank picked up the newspaper lying on his desk and began to read as he waited for Joe to return. Perusing a few of the front-page articles, Frank turned the page where a bold headline caught his eye.

**"CONCERT PIANIST'S CAREER ENDED IN ACT OF VIOLENCE"**

Reading the article, Frank shook his head and wondered what the world was coming to with such senseless acts of violence. The article described the apparent kidnapping and assault of Kent Graham, a well-known concert pianist in New York City. The twenty-four-year-old young man had been a child prodigy and was considered one of the best concert pianists in the world. Graham had been returning home after a rehearsal with the New York City Symphony. As he walked to his townhouse, he was shot with a tranquilizer dart and transported to an unknown location. There his hands and fingers had been brutally smashed with what the police believed was a hammer. He was found around three o'clock in the morning on the front steps of his home.

The young man didn't remember anything after feeling the sting of the dart in his neck, until he woke up in the emergency room of the hospital. His hands had been so badly mutilated it was unsure if he would ever regain the use of them for simple daily tasks and it was certain he would never play piano again.

Frank couldn't help but think about Blake Sansom and the similarity of two 'prodigies' being dealt such horrible twists of fate.

"Got it!" Joe cried out, bursting into Frank's office, bringing his mind back to the task at hand. Setting the paper aside, Frank leaned forward on his desk so he was better able to see the list of names Joe had.

"Right here." Joe pointed excitedly. "Edward and Lorraine Winters. They have a large collection of rare jewelry that they happen to keep in a safe in their house, insured with Liberty Insurance. _And…" _Joe continued producing the schedule Greta Rawlins had given him the day before. "…Look who just happens to be planning an evening at the ballet in New York City on Thursday and cancelled the services of their cook that night. The one they get from Granston Domestics." He pointed to one of the red circles Greta had made on the schedule. "That's where they're going to strike next. I know it."

Frank looked at the list of names and at the schedule before looking up at Joe. "I think you may be right, Bro," he smiled. "What say we run this by Dad?"

oooOOOooo

Fenton pulled up to the wrought iron gate of a large mansion overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. To his left was an intercom mounted on the eight-foot tall cement wall that surrounded the entire property. Positioned atop the wall, looking down on the car, was a surveillance camera. Frank, seated next to his father, looked out the window at the imposing structure.

"Winters and his wife are the only ones who live here?" Frank asked somewhat awed.

"I believe so. Their children are grown and out on their own." Fenton leaned out the window and pressed a button on the intercom.

"Yes?" a voice came floating out of the speaker.

"Fenton Hardy to see Edward Winters."

"Please come in." The gates opened as if by magic.

"So what do you think?" Frank turned in his seat to look at his younger brother.

Joe was leaning forward slightly, staring out the front windshield, eyes huge and mouth hanging open. As Fenton navigated the long driveway and pulled to a stop in front of the mansion, Frank leaned back and placed two fingers under Joe's chin. Pressing upwards, he forced Joe's mouth shut with an audible snap.

Fenton chuckled at his sons and stepped out of the car, followed by Frank with Joe bringing up the rear, still unable to take his eyes off the huge building.

"Wow!" he finally managed, causing Frank and Fenton to exchange amused glances. "Are you sure this is somebody's house and not a museum or something?" Joe asked, trailing behind as the three of them walked up the front steps.

"According to Clarkson it could be. Everything in this house is museum quality," Fenton replied, ringing the doorbell.

Seconds later the door opened and the Hardys were greeted by a tall, slim man with thinning sandy colored hair and light blue eyes, who was wearing a butler's uniform.

"Mr. Hardy," the man said, more as a statement than a question. He stepped aside allowing Fenton, Frank and Joe to enter. "Please follow me." He led them into a large foyer.

Joe looked up in awe at the enormous crystal chandelier hanging from the cathedral ceiling and the impressive curved staircase leading to the upper floors. Unable to tear his eyes away from the chandelier, he ran right into Frank's back, not realizing his brother had stopped.

"Sorry," Joe mumbled after Frank glared at him in reprimand.

The butler knocked on the closed door in front of them and waited for a response before opening the door and ushering the Hardys inside.

"Fenton Hardy, Frank Hardy and Joseph Hardy," the butler announced, with Joe automatically wincing at the use of his full first name; the only time his parents had ever called him 'Joseph' was when he was in big trouble.

Edward Winters moved out from behind the large oak desk to shake hands with the Hardys. As CEO of a one of the country's largest pharmaceutical companies, the tall distinguished looking man with silver hair and deep brown eyes exuded self-confidence, yet still came across as friendly and approachable.

"Mr. Hardy, it's a pleasure to meet you and your sons." Winters greeted them shaking hands with Fenton, Frank and Joe. "Ben Clarkson called earlier and explained why you wanted to see me today and I can't thank you enough. Many pieces in our jewelry collection are family heirlooms that could never be replaced. However, my wife loves to wear them which is why we keep them here in the house." He shrugged with a smile.

"We're still not absolutely certain the thieves will strike here next, but it does appear likely that you would be the next victim," Fenton said.

"Then how can I help you prevent that? What would you like me to do?" Winters asked as he led the Hardys to the overstuffed leather chairs and couch in the seating area of his spacious office.

"It would be best if we could catch them in the act," Joe answered.

"So you'd like my wife and I to go to New York City as planned tomorrow night," Winters said, obviously realizing the Hardys wanted the theft to take place as planned so they could be certain of catching the suspects in the act. He remained silent for a moment before nodding approvingly.

"Exactly." Fenton was relieved that Edward Winters understood and approved of what they wanted to do. In his experience, he found that most people would simply want to cancel their plans and stay home, assuring their own possessions were safe – even if only temporarily – while the criminals remained at large.

"With your permission, we'd like to set up a stake out here tomorrow night," Frank took up the explanation. "We would arrive before you and your wife left. We'd be inside the house, preferably in the room where the safe is kept, when the theft occurs."

"Then it would simply be a matter of halting the theft and arresting them," Winters commented.

"Technically yes," Fenton confirmed. "At least we hope it will be simple. Is that something you'd be agreeable to?"

"Absolutely." Winters stood and walked back to his desk. "I assume you'll need to familiarize yourselves with the layout of the house and the dressing lounge. That's where we keep the safe." He picked up the phone and pressed a button. "Charles, could you please come in here?"

Almost immediately the door opened and the butler reappeared. "Yes, sir?"

"The Hardys need a tour of the house, including the bedrooms, dressing area and the safe. Please show them around and answer any questions they may have."

"Yes, sir." The waited for the Hardys to rise, then led them out of the room.

The group returned to the foyer where Joe couldn't help but take another look at the chandelier as they made their way up the curved staircase. They walked down a large hallway with antique furniture and centuries old paintings lining the walls. At the end of the hall, the butler opened a set of large double doors that led into a large sitting room.

Over the next few hours, Frank, Joe and Fenton familiarized themselves with every room on the second floor, paying particular attention to the dressing lounge off the master bedroom where the safe was kept. As they descended the stairs once again, Charles showed them down another large hallway with rooms off both sides. Bringing up the rear Joe was peering into each room as they passed, still in awe at the sheer size of each room, when one in particular brought him to a dead stop. It was huge, with a hardwood floor, polished to a high sheen and what appeared to be some kind of stage at one end of the room. Although it had many chairs around the perimeter it was otherwise devoid of furniture.

"Did you see that room?!" Joe whispered harshly at Frank. "Geez, you could put my whole apartment in there and _still_ have room left over!"

"Yes, Joe. It's a ballroom," Frank replied in a low voice.

"A _ballroom_?! What the heck do they need a ballroom for?" Joe shook his head as he let his brother pull him away.

After another hour-long tour of the rooms on the lower floor, the Hardys returned to Edward Winters office and finalized the arrangements for their stake out the following night then departed for Bayport.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent mapping out the details for the next evening. When everything was firmly in place and there was nothing more to do, Frank went into the house to bid his mother goodnight. Wanting to confirm one last detail with his brother, Frank walked back to Joe's office but stopped short just of entering. Quickly stepping back out of sight, he stood and watched, his heart breaking. Joe had just removed something from the pocket of his jacket, which was hanging over the back of a chair. Frank heard the familiar pop of a small, plastic bottle being opened.

'_Please don't do it, Joe. I'm right here. Talk to me.'_

His prayers went unanswered as he watched his younger brother pop a pill into his mouth, quickly swallowing a few mouthfuls of water to wash it down. Frank did not want to believe Joe was using drugs, but he couldn't ignore the obvious any longer. Before confronting Joe, however, Frank knew he needed to be absolutely certain. Laden with guilt for being unable to trust his brother completely, he went out to his car, pulled out his cell phone and began to dial.


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you so much to Calathiel, No1butjoe, Polaris, Liz, pally, MissMe113, Miss Fenway (LOVED the Tic-Tac's! :D), Helen (the mansion is all in my head! LOL! And your theories are right on the money. ;-) ) and josie for the awesome reviews. :-)

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 6**

Frank entered the restaurant and scanned the tables, spotting Vanessa sitting in a booth by the window. He strode quickly across the room where he greeted Vanessa with a kiss on the cheek before sitting down. A waitress appeared almost immediately, taking his order and promptly returning with his drink.

"So to what do I owe the honor of lunch with you?" Vanessa smiled at Frank, although she had already figured out the reason for his impromptu invitation.

"Can't I just take my future sister-in-law out to lunch?" Frank replied a little too defensively.

"You could," Vanessa agreed sitting back and taking a sip of water. "And I would appreciate it very much. But that's not why you asked to meet me."

"Am I that transparent?" he asked dejectedly.

"Only when it comes to Joe," she reassured him.

Frank sighed heavily and gazed out the window for a moment, concern marring his handsome features.

"I'm worried about him, Van."

"Why? He's doing fine."

"Is he? Really? No more nightmares about Rashman? About having to go back to Chicago and testify?" Frank pressed her.

"Sometimes," Vanessa told him honestly. "But nothing like when we first got home. Honestly, Frank, he's doing great."

"I'm not so sure." Frank nervously played with the discarded paper from his straw. "I…I saw something. The first time it was easy to tell myself it was nothing, but it's happened two more times and I can't ignore it anymore."

"Have you talked to Joe about it?"

Frank looked at her almost guiltily. "I can't. That's why I came to you. I need to know if you've seen it too."

Vanessa pursed her lips in thought as she stared at Frank. She could see he was extremely concerned about Joe, but she tried never to come between the brothers, feeling it was best they work out their rare differences without interference. Then again, they'd had more differences this year than they'd had in their whole lives. This year had been anything but normal. "Okay. What's the problem?"

"I saw him taking pills," Frank told her, a touch of fear in his voice. After much soul searching in Chicago, Frank had decided to tell Vanessa about Joe's request for morphine as a way to escape the mounting emotional pain he'd been in. Frank had confided in Vanessa that he was afraid if Joe started feeling overwhelmed, he might become dependent on the prescription painkillers he'd been given once he was released from the hospital. Since Vanessa would be with Joe constantly upon their return to Bayport, she would be in the best position to notice should Frank's fears come true. "Three different times, Van. He promised me in Chicago that he wouldn't touch drugs again – _ever_ – no matter how overwhelmed he felt."

"Frank…" Vanessa tried to interrupt, but Frank apparently didn't hear.

"Things seem to be going fine. We haven't really worked on anything but this stolen jewelry case since he was cleared to come back to work. I guess everything that happened with Rashman is finally getting to him. A delayed reaction, you know?" Frank looked out the window again, a heavy weight filling his heart.

"Frank…" Vanessa tried again and was ignored a second time as Frank continued to voice his disturbing thoughts.

"He swore he wouldn't use drugs! He promised he'd come to me if things got really bad." Frank looked at Vanessa, anguished. "But I saw him, Van. I _saw_ him taking those pills – _three different times_!"

"Frank!" Vanessa said forcefully, reaching across the table and grabbing his hand to make sure she had his full attention. "They're vitamins!"

Frank stared at her open-mouthed. "They're…_vitamins_?" he repeated as if she had spoken a foreign language.

"Vitamins," she confirmed with a smile. "Just vitamins. The doctor said to ensure the burns heal with a minimal amount of scarring, Joe needs to eat a healthy, well-balanced, nutritious diet."

Frank stared at her a moment longer and then laughed out loud. "A healthy, well-balanced, nutritious diet?! _JOE_??"

Vanessa nodded, amused at Frank's reaction.

Frank shook his head, chuckling quietly. "Joe and healthy food is like oil and water. The two will never mix."

"Exactly." Vanessa grinned at him.

"Hence the need for vitamins."

"Right again," Vanessa replied. "I've been making sure he's eating a healthy dinner, much to his dismay, but a lot of times he's on his own for breakfast and lunch. In his defense, he really is trying. The vitamins are sort of a compromise."

Frank shook his head with a wry grin. "Well, that makes me feel a lot better…" He stopped never finishing his thought, his eyes growing huge with worry. "Van, please, you can't tell him I thought he was using drugs. He would never, ever trust me again. He'd never forgive me for doubting him again."

Vanessa held up a hand. "I won't say a word. I see how you could have made that assumption. And I understand completely why you couldn't come right out and ask him about it. Don't worry, Frank." She patted his hand reassuringly. "This stays between you and me."

"Thank you." Frank exhaled in relief. "But…what will you tell him if he asks why we had lunch today? It's not exactly a common occurrence."

"I'll tell him the truth," Vanessa said with a wink, as a waitress appeared with their orders. "My future brother-in-law asked me out to a nice lunch. And who am I to turn down a free meal?"

oooOOOooo

Vanessa inserted the key in the lock and pushed the door open. Walking into the apartment she stopped and stared at the couch, smiling sadly. Joe was stretched out with his right arm thrown across his eyes apparently napping, as he often did when he returned from therapy. She knew the time he spent working in therapy was uncomfortable at best, although Joe would never admit it, and often left him exhausted. Vanessa quietly shut the door and walked past the couch towards the counter that separated the kitchen from the living/dining room.

"Hey, where ya goin'?" Joe asked lazily as she walked by.

"I thought you were sleeping," Vanessa said, a little startled.

"Nah, just resting my eyes," he joked. "C'mere and sit down."

Vanessa put her things down on the counter and started to turn back towards him, stopping when she noticed the red light blinking on the answering machine. "Did you listen to the messages?"

"Don't have to," Joe replied with sarcastic affection. "The first one is from Mom and the second one is from Frank."

Pressing the play button, Vanessa returned to the couch where Joe shifted just enough for her to sit down, then rested his head in her lap contentedly. She noticed he cradled his left arm against his chest protectively and knew today's therapy session had been particularly grueling. Vanessa intertwined her left hand in his right and leaned down, kissing him softly as the first message played.

_"Hi, sweetie,"_ Laura's voice floated through the room. _"I just wanted to see how therapy went today and make sure you're feeling okay. Call me tonight. I love you."_

"Love you too, Mom," Joe returned the greeting as Vanessa laughed at him.

_"Hey, Bro. Just checking in to see how you're doing. Call me."_

"Like clockwork." Joe grinned looking up at Vanessa. "You could set your watch by them."

"Just make sure you call them back, okay? They worry about you." Vanessa requested.

"Yes, _Mom_," Joe teased, reaching up and pulling Vanessa toward him for a kiss. As their lips parted, a third message began.

_"Hi, Vanessa. This is Millie in Dr. Jackson's office."_ Vanessa could feel Joe flinch at the mention of her doctor's name. Sighing inwardly, Vanessa ran her fingers through his hair comfortingly. While Joe was obviously surprised to hear the receptionist's voice, Vanessa wasn't and knew exactly why she was calling. She had been watching the calendar for almost three months, both dreading and anticipating this call_. "I just wanted to remind you you're due for your next blood test at the end of the month. Call me at 555-8631 and we'll schedule an appointment for you to come into the lab. Thank you."_

Glancing down, she saw Joe was staring out the window, a gamut of swiftly changing emotions passing over his face, the most prominent of which was fear.

"The last one was negative," she reminded him softly. "That means there's a good chance this one will be too."

"Yeah, I know," Joe replied, his voice shaking slightly. He continued to stare out the window, not wanting to meet her eyes, afraid she would see how terrified he was at the possibility of losing her.

Laying her head back against the couch, Vanessa wondered if their lives would ever truly be normal again.


	7. Chapter 7

LOL everyone who still thinks there's more to it than just vitamins! Boy, you people are a suspicious bunch! :p And in this chapter you will learn why Joe kept the vitamins a 'secret' from Frank. ;-)

Thank you SO MUCH for the reviews! They never fail to make me smile. :-)

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 7**

The next morning, Frank was seated on the couch in his father's office reading the paper when Joe walked in.

"Good morning," Frank greeted him. "Dad should be here in a few minutes."

"Fine." Joe's response was uncharacteristically subdued. Sitting in a chair, he made no effort to engage his brother in conversation, simply staring off into space.

"Joe… You feeling alright?" Frank asked, concerned.

"Fine," Joe repeated in the same low voice.

"Okay." Frank tried a different tack. "Is there anything you want to talk about? Anything you _need_ to talk about?"

Joe stared ahead a moment longer, before turning sad and scared blue eyes on his brother. "Vanessa's doctor called yesterday. She has to go for her next blood test this month." He shifted his gaze back out into space

Folding the paper and placing it on the table in front of the couch, Frank scooted down a little, shifting closer to the chair Joe was sitting in.

"It's been six months, right?" Frank asked gently.

Joe simply nodded in response.

"She already tested negative the first time, when they did the initial test. And again three months ago," Frank reminded him.

Joe nodded again, still remaining unnaturally silent.

"Aren't the chances of her testing positive now – at six months – pretty slim?"

"Yeah," Joe finally spoke, albeit very softly. "Fifty percent of the people infected with HIV test positive within three weeks of the time they were exposed. Almost everyone who was infected will test positive by three months after they were exposed. But a small number of people take six months before they test positive." He turned and looked at Frank once again, desperate for some kind of reassurance that Vanessa would not be in that small number.

Frank found himself speechless for a moment, stunned that Joe could rattle off those statistics off the top of his head. He quickly composed himself, seeing Joe was in obvious need of support.

"And the chances of Vanessa being in that small number are pretty small themselves. Besides, you two are about due for some good luck, don't you think?"

Joe continued staring at his older brother for a moment longer, before the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Yeah, we are."

"How's Vanessa doing?" Frank asked. If Joe were taking it this badly, wouldn't she be even worse?

"Better than me, I think." Joe laughed dryly. "Man, I wish I was half as strong as she is. She said pretty much the same thing you did. Can you believe it? She was trying to cheer me up. She's pretty amazing, huh?" Joe smiled once again.

"Yes, she is," Frank agreed, relieved to see Joe relax a little bit.

…

Standing in the doorway, Fenton had heard the entire exchange between his sons. While he couldn't see Joe's face, he knew the anguish that would be clearly visible in his eyes if he could. The rage he felt at Joshusa Tilghman and Chris Taylor came bubbling up to the surface. Sadly, he knew that no matter how successful therapy was, no matter how much progress they made, Joe and Vanessa would never be the same again – they're lives had been changed forever. Burying that hatred deep inside, where it had to stay, Fenton plastered a smile on his face and walked into office.

"Morning, Joe." He stopped and smiled, handing Joe a bag. "From your mother."

"Hi, Dad." Joe returned the smile, his mood having improved slightly after talking with Frank. He took the bag and looked inside. Sighing he pulled out a large bottle of vitamins. "Between her and Vanessa there's no way I could forget to take them even if I wanted to," Joe complained good-naturedly, as his father chuckled.

Frank stared at the bottle in his brother's hand, startled, and hoped it didn't register on his face. _'Mom and Dad both knew? Vanessa knew…why did he keep it from me?'_

Frank looked at Joe who was sharing some inside joke about Laura's "gift" with Fenton, when it hit him. If Joe wasn't willing to share something as mundane as this, Frank wasn't even close to winning back his brother's trust.

"What are they for?" Frank asked innocently, gesturing towards the bottle, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Joe slouched back in the chair and sighed as he put the vitamins back in the bag. "The burns. Dr. Gregory said I have to eat a healthy, well-balanced, nutritious diet," Joe replied, mimicking his doctor. "It's supposed to help with the scarring." His blue eyes momentarily clouded over, before he looked back at his brother with a grin. "Unfortunately, Dr. Gregory doesn't seem to think Big Macs and Whoppers are healthy, well-balanced or nutritious. So we compromised. Now I'm popping vitamins like crazy."

"I see," Frank said noncommittally. "When did he tell you this?"

Joe shrugged. "Couple of weeks ago? I'm not sure exactly. Why?"

"No reason. You just never mentioned it before."

"I didn't?" Joe asked surprised. "I'm sorry. I thought I told you," he said easily. "I meant to."

"You did?" Frank blurted it out before he realized what he was saying.

"Sure. Why wouldn't I?" Joe looked at his brother strangely.

"No reason I can think of." Frank smiled, never so glad to be wrong about anything in his life. _'I need to stop being so paranoid! He __is__ starting to trust me again,' _he thought relieved, now more grateful than ever that he hadn't shared his suspicions about Joe with anyone other than Vanessa.

The morning was spent going over the plans for the stake out at the Winters mansion that night. When Fenton was satisfied that it would go off without a hitch, he suggested Frank and Joe take the afternoon off and rest up, as they weren't sure exactly when their night would end.

As Frank turned to leave, Joe tapped him on the shoulder. "Frank?"

"Yeah?"

"Um…I just wanted to say, thanks…for earlier."

"Earlier?" Frank repeated, puzzled.

"You're really good at that big brother thing, ya know?" Joe chuckled. "You don't even know when you're doing it."

Frank quickly replayed the morning in his head. "Vanessa," he said simply.

"Mm-hmm. And you were right. The positive thinking and all that," Joe said gratefully. "So thanks."

"You're welcome." Frank smiled. _'Maybe I haven't been doing as bad a job at this 'big brother thing' as I thought.'_

He watched as Joe picked up the bag Fenton had given him earlier. Catching Frank looking at him, Joe simply rolled his eyes causing Frank to laugh out loud.

"Why don't I treat you to lunch," Frank said, throwing an arm around Joe's shoulder. "If you promise not to order a cheeseburger and fries, maybe you can skip the vitamins this time."

"Free food?" Joe's eyes lit up. "You're on!"

oooOOOooo

Frank sat perfectly still, gazing out into the darkened room from his position behind the armoire. The heavy, velvet floor length drapes were partially open and the almost full moon illuminated the shadows. Checking his watch, Frank saw close to two and a half hours had passed since their stake out had begun. Although he couldn't see his brother, he glanced across the room to where Joe was hidden behind the drapes. Not knowing exactly when the thieves would strike, they couldn't risk engaging in any type of conversation and Frank knew Joe must be out of his mind with boredom.

…

Outside the house, Fenton had found a spot among the bushes in the perfectly manicured garden that afforded him a view of both the front and back areas of the mansion. As soon as the thieves arrived and entered the house, he would call the Kirkland police and then provide his sons with back up.

Alone with his thoughts, Fenton sighed inwardly as he recalled how depressed Joe had initially been that morning at the thought of Vanessa's upcoming blood test. He couldn't help but wonder why life had taken such a drastic turn for the young couple. Once Joe had finally come to terms with Iola Morton's death and gave himself permission to move on, Vanessa became the center of his world. Throughout high school and college, many girls had tried to lure him away from Vanessa, and while he would always be an incurable flirt his commitment to Vanessa was without question.

Their perennially sunny dispositions, eternally positive outlook and carefree, fun-loving attitudes made it easy to believe life would hold only the best for them. Those thoughts were brutally shattered at the beginning of the year and their bad luck seemed to gain momentum with each passing day. The past six months seemed to have thrown more trials at them than anyone should have to endure in a lifetime and yet he found himself marveling at their inner strength and resiliency. Shifting into a more comfortable position, he remembered Frank's comments to Joe about the odds of Vanessa's blood test coming back positive and prayed his older son was right.

As Fenton methodically scanned the expanse of lush grass and the gardens in full bloom, he caught the slightest movement coming from the opposite side of the house. Instinctively crouching down a little lower, Fenton watched and soon two men, dressed in black from head to toe, emerged from a small stand of trees. Barely making a sound, they approached the front door. One of the men leaned over and made quick work of the lock. Quietly opening the door, the two men entered the house and Fenton could see one of them stop and punch in the code to deactivate the alarm system as the second one closed the door.

Waiting until he was sure they'd had enough time to make it up the stairs and down the hall to the master bedroom suite, Fenton emerged from his hiding place and immediately called his contact at the Kirkland Police Department. Returning the cell phone to his pocket, he quietly approached the house. Climbing the steps of the front porch, he saw the door had been left open a crack. Easing the door open just enough to get in, Fenton soundlessly made his way up the stairs.

OooOOOooo

Joe leaned back against the wall wishing he could get up and stretch his cramped limbs. The waiting was starting to get to him and he found himself starting to squirm a little bit, trying not to move the drapes as he did so. Sighing inwardly Joe wished the thieves would hurry up and make their appearance so he could get home to Vanessa.

Somehow, he had lost track of time over the past month or so and was totally caught off guard when Vanessa's doctor had called reminding her it was time for her next blood test. He hadn't slept much the night before as his imagination had apparently been working overtime, presenting him with endless scenarios of how the blood test could turn out, none of them good. The dreams had only served to remind Joe that although it was slim, there was still a chance that he and Vanessa wouldn't be spending the rest of their lives together – that he could once again end up alone. And that thought terrified him. Even though they rarely spent their free time apart these days, Joe still felt as if their time together wasn't enough, sometimes wishing he could spend every waking moment with Vanessa.

Iola Morton had been Joe's first crush, his first love and her death had almost destroyed him. Vanessa, he had come to realize, was his soul mate and Joe knew if he lost her too, it would be unlikely he could ever recover from that. Burying the anger at the forces that had turned their lives upside down, Joe vowed to try and keep the same positive outlook Vanessa had displayed. This blood test would come back negative just as the others had. It _had_ to…

The door to the dressing lounge opened with a barely audible squeak although to Joe it sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard and quickly brought him back to the present. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and every muscle in his body tensed. He had positioned himself in such a way that he had a clear view of the room, although he was completely hidden.

Joe watched as two men walked into the room, neither one making a sound. Even though he couldn't see his brother, he knew Frank was also watching every move the two intruders made, ready to strike. Joe held his breath as the two men approached his hiding place near the safe and one of them knelt down on the floor in front of the metal fortress.

'_These guys are good,'_ Joe thought as he watched the man methodically turn the dial, listening intently. They were so close Joe could hear the man breathing and instinctively held his own breath.

As the last tumbler clicked into place, the thief turned the handle on the door of the safe and easily pulled it open. Joe felt his heart start to race as he watched the man remove the jewelry from the safe and place it in the small black bag he had placed on the floor. Hoping Frank's view wasn't completely blocked by the two men huddled in front of the safe, Joe prepared to move. As agreed, he waited until the door to the safe was closed and locked once again, so the jewels were squarely in the men's possession.

Obviously thinking they had completed another successful robbery, the two men stood and turned to leave the room. With one eye on the armoire where his brother was concealed, Joe sprang from his hiding place at the exact same moment Frank emerged from his and for a few seconds the world stood still as four young men stared at each other in the dim moonlight. Then all hell broke loose.


	8. Chapter 8

To Medieval Liz, Calathiel, Helen, MissMe113, Miss Fenway, Polaris, TraSan, Alicia, No1butjoe and pally – THANK YOU! :D

**Happy Birthday **

**Chapter 8**

The first man charged forward and swung the heavy bag of jewels at Frank's head. Letting his reflexes take over, Frank ducked avoiding the makeshift weapon. Taking advantage of his position, Frank drove his head into the man's midsection hoping to topple him. The jewel thief, however, seemed to sense the move and took a quick side step resulting in nothing more than a glancing blow to his ribs.

Frank's momentum carried him forward a few steps but he quickly recovered and charged at the man who was almost to the open door. Launching himself at fleeing suspect, Frank tackled him and the two of them fell to the floor. Landing on top of the other man's back, Frank had the advantage he needed. Grabbing one of the man's arms, he pulled, twisting it behind his back, stopping only when he heard a grunt of pain.

Meanwhile the second man took a swing at Joe, trying to catch him by surprise. Joe was ready, grabbing the assailant's arm and using the man's own momentum to propel him into the wall.

Frank could hear Joe locked in battle with the second thief and quickly tried to put handcuffs on the man. Knowing Joe wasn't recovered enough yet to come out the victor in a strenuous or lengthy fight, Frank wanted to come to his brother's aide as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, his suspect was not cooperating and Frank was having a difficult time getting the man's other arm in position to secure the handcuffs. Frank was fast losing patience with the man when he heard Joe's voice.

"I don't think so!"

Cautiously peeking over his shoulder, Frank saw the second man attempt to shove Joe aside and make a run for the door. Joe grabbed him by the arm and spun him around, Joe's right hand curled into a fist ready to strike. Returning his attention to his own charge, Frank doubled his efforts to get handcuffs secured, suddenly realizing he should have heard some kind of sound from the other man in response to Joe's attack. Chancing another glance over his shoulder, Frank could only watch, horrified.

Joe's hold on the man had slipped away and Frank could hear his brother cursing the obvious weakness in his left arm. As the man pulled his arm from Joe's tentative grasp, his eyes lit on something leaning against the wall. Grabbing the object, he swung it forward. As it passed through the shafts of moonlight streaming in through the window, Frank could see that it was a heavy crowbar.

Instinctively, Joe threw his arms up to protect himself, his left arm catching the full brunt of the vicious blow. Crying out in pain, Joe crumpled to the floor, automatically curling up in a ball. Clutching his left arm to his chest Joe tucked his head, obviously anticipating of a second blow. Joe's attacker was just about to bring the crowbar down on his head when the room was flooded with light and Fenton Hardy's commanding voice filled the room.

"Stop right there!"

For a few seconds, no one moved. The jewel thief had stopped in mid-swing and was now staring, transfixed, at the gun Fenton had trained on him. The man on the floor had stopped struggling, shocked by the appearance of yet a third party. Frank quickly snapped the handcuffs in place and got to his feet, staring at his brother lying on the floor in obvious pain. He held his breath, not wanting to spook the man into doing something stupid, yet wanting to rush to Joe's assistance. It had been only seconds but seemed like an eternity to Frank before he finally heard his father's voice again.

"Take three steps back and very slowly put the crowbar down. Then lay on the floor, face down, hands behind your head," he ordered the man hovering over Joe, his gun never wavering from its target.

The man seemed to be weighing his options for a moment, before he finally complied and Frank immediately rushed forward to restrain him. As he was snapping the handcuffs in place, Fenton knelt by Joe's side.

"Joe, are you hurt?" he asked, helping Joe to sit against the wall.

"No." Despite the negative reply, Joe grimaced in pain, still protectively cradling his arm.

"Yes, you are," Frank challenged, appearing on his other side.

"No," Joe repeated. "I'm fine. Just gimme a minute to recover," he said irritably, not wanting to admit how badly his arm hurt. A few moments later, Joe tried to move his arm and hissed in pain.

"You're going to the emergency room," Fenton told him.

"No, I'm not…" Joe began, only to be cut off by his father.

"Do NOT argue with me, Joseph!" Fenton snapped, knowing his use of Joe's full name would bring about a quick halt to any argument Joe had planned.

Joe cringed at Fenton's tone of voice. During his childhood and adolescence, whenever his father referred to him as 'Joseph', the words "you're grounded" usually followed in quick succession. When he reached adulthood, Joe knew the use of his full name meant his father was extremely worried about him and no argument whatsoever would be tolerated.

Frank's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he stared at Joe, willing his brother to think before he spoke and not come back with some sarcastic reply.

"Okay," Joe acquiesced, grudgingly. "But I'm fine," he finished under his breath, still protectively cradling his arm close to his chest.

"What did you say?" his father asked in measured tones, indicating he'd clearly heard every word.

Joe slouched against the wall in disgust. "Nothing."

"That's what I thought." Fenton turned his attention to Frank. "Wait here for the police. I'll take Joe to the hospital."

Frank opened his mouth to protest but Fenton held up a hand, stopping him before he could utter a word.

"Absolutely not." Fenton knew Frank wanted to be the one to take Joe to the hospital. He also knew the drive would afford Joe more than enough time to turn up the charm and convince his brother he was unhurt and there was no need for a visit to the emergency room. "He'll have you talked out of it before you're halfway down the street. You can meet us there when you're done."

Frank snapped his mouth shut and glared at his younger brother who shrugged his shoulders and smiled sheepishly in return.

oooOOOooo

It was close to two hours later when Frank hurried into the waiting area of Bayport General Hospital's emergency room and found his father sitting there glancing through a magazine.

"Dad. How's Joe? Is he all right?"

"They just took him in." Fenton tossed the magazine back on the table.

"What?!" Frank cried out, incredulous. "You've been here forever!"

Fenton chuckled slightly at his older son's outrage. "I know you think your brother should always come first, but here you need to be bleeding profusely or near death to go to the head of the line. Personally, I'm glad he had to wait for once instead of being first in line."

"Still, I would think _someone_ could have seen him by now," Frank retorted, flopping into a chair. "So, how did he seem to you? Do you think he's really okay?"

"He drove me up the wall with his constant complaining." Fenton smiled. "I think he'll be fine. I just didn't want to take any chances with that arm."

Frank relaxed somewhat, chuckling inside as he thought about Joe slowly wearing Fenton down with an endless string of sarcastic comments about why he didn't need to be there.

It was another hour and a half before a resident strode into the waiting room with a very glum looking Joe trailing behind, a sling now gracing his left arm.

"How is he?" Frank asked as soon as they entered the room.

"Hello! I'm right here," Joe said, annoyed. "You could ask _me_ how I am."

"He'll be fine," the tall, sandy-haired young man smiled.

"Nothing's broken?" Frank pressed, looking at the resident intently.

"Yoo-hoo. Frank." Joe waved his good hand at his brother in exasperation, still getting no response.

"The x-rays were negative and Joe still has good range of motion in the arm. He'll just be very sore for a while," the doctor assured Frank and Fenton. "We called Dr. Gregory to let him know what happened," he added, referring to Joe's family physician.

"I told you I was fine," Joe said sourly, pulling on the sling in an effort to make it more comfortable and was once again ignored by his brother who had his attention focused on the doctor.

"So, he's really okay?" Frank asked, still not completely convinced.

"I might as well be invisible," Joe mumbled, finally giving up his fight with the sling and sitting down.

"It's just badly bruised," the resident replied, amused at the one sided, non-exchange going on between Joe and his brother. "No need to worry."

"Thank you," Fenton said, relieved.

"Just make sure you wear the sling for the next two days," the young physician reminded Joe. "And tell your therapist what happened. She may want to modify your therapy for a week or so until it heals."

"I will," Joe replied. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He gave a slight nod and returned to the emergency room.

"At least somebody knows I'm here," Joe muttered sarcastically, as he watched the doctor's retreating back.

"Come on," Frank said, extending his hand to pull Joe up from the chair. "I'll give you a ride home."

Joe sat up slightly and glanced around the room as if looking for someone before returning his gaze to his older brother with a look of astonishment. "Oh, you're talking to _me_?" Joe pointed to himself and pretended to act surprised.

"All right, all right, you've made your point," Frank said, getting the message.

Giving Frank's outstretched hand a withering look, Joe ignored it and got to his feet. Walking towards the exit, Joe continued to harass Frank for ignoring him, with Frank trailing behind apologizing profusely. Laughing softly to himself, Fenton shook his head and followed his sons out of the hospital.


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks for the awesome reviews. :-) And thank you to everyone who is reading. Hope you are enjoying the story.

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 9**

Joe and Vanessa followed Frank and Callie into the low-lit movie theater. Frank and Joe had spent most of the day with their father briefing their client on the successful conclusion of their case, completing reports and tying up loose ends. After checking in with Callie and Vanessa, the four of them settled on going out for dinner and a movie that evening.

"How about here?" Vanessa pointed to a row on the left near the back of the theater. "You can sit next to the wall." She smiled at Joe. "That way no one can bump into your arm."

"Thanks, Babe," Joe replied with an affectionate kiss on the cheek. He made his way to the end of the row, followed by Vanessa, Callie and Frank bringing up the rear.

As the four young people settled into their seats, Frank draped an arm around Callie who rested her head on his shoulder.

"This is nice," she murmured. "No crime, no bad guys, no violence."

"Except up there," Frank grinned pointing to the large movie screen. "Remember, it was Joe's turn to pick the movie."

"Mm-hmm. And I wonder exactly how much of it he'll see." Callie glanced at Joe who was gently nuzzling Vanessa's neck.

"Great. They're at it already," Frank said sardonically.

As the lights dimmed, Frank turned his attention to the screen and the coming attractions, deciding which movies he might like to see. The main feature started soon after and it wasn't long before he noticed Vanessa snuggling ever closer to Joe. Soft murmurs could be heard from the two of them, broken up by an occasional giggle from Vanessa that had nothing to do with the movie. Shaking his head, Frank exchanged an amused smile with Callie and settled into a more comfortable position.

A short time later, Frank leaned down to whisper something to Callie when he noticed an abrupt movement on the other side of her. Glancing over her head, he saw Vanessa practically sitting in Joe's lap, the two of them tangled together in a heated kiss completely oblivious to their surroundings. Sinking down lower in his seat, Frank hoped no one was sitting behind them. At Frank's sudden movement, Callie took a quick peek at Joe and Vanessa, turning back to Frank with a bemused smile.

"That sling doesn't seem to be hampering Joe in the least," she murmured.

Taking one more look at his brother, Frank felt himself blush and was thankful for the darkness.

"You'd never know they live together," he commented dryly, vowing to ignore them for the rest of the movie, secretly glad Joe and Vanessa were finally starting to show signs of their more carefree habits of the past.

After the movie ended, the foursome decided to go for ice cream at one of the restaurants in the mall and found themselves standing in line with all the other movie-goers in search of a late night snack. As always, Joe and Vanessa stood huddled together, alternating between engaging Frank and Callie in conversation and trading frequent kisses.

Frank studied his younger brother, noting how Joe would subtly change position as people in the crowded line would shift. At first he thought Joe was trying to protect his arm from being bumped but he noticed that, as Joe moved, his left arm was frequently exposed to the jostling crowd, while his right arm was wrapped securely around Vanessa.

Frank watched more closely as he sensed Joe's constant movement had to do with something other than simple restlessness. As the crowded line of people moved forward, he saw Joe move yet again, nudging Vanessa so she was now positioned between himself and Callie.

As two couples slowly walked by he noticed them giving Vanessa more than a passing glance and heard one of the young men mumble something to his companions, catching only one word - _'raped'._ Snapping his head around, Frank leveled them with an icy glare.

Seeing his venomous look, the four people who appeared to be only slightly younger than him and Joe, quickly scurried away. Glancing back at Joe, he noticed – thankfully – neither his brother nor Vanessa heard what was said. Frank knew that had Joe heard the simple, one word comment, he would have angrily torn the two young men to pieces in seconds, despite being temporarily one-handed. Thinking about it, Frank wasn't quite sure if he would have tried to stop his younger brother or help him.

As the line moved a few more feet, Frank watched Joe carefully and it finally hit him that Joe was moving instinctively, always putting himself between Vanessa and the crowd of people, ensuring that strangers never got too close to her. He found he was both proud and angry – proud that Joe would go to those lengths to make Vanessa feel safe and angry that he even had to do such a thing.

Frank was relieved to notice there were now only two couples ahead of them to be seated. He had seen a few more people looking at Vanessa as they walked by and noted it was impossible to miss the look of pity in their eyes. Vanessa's expression never changed, however, as she continued smiling and snuggling with Joe. He watched as yet two more women walked by glancing at Vanessa sympathetically and it occurred to him the article that had appeared in the paper when Joe had been arrested almost six months ago, announcing to all of Bayport that his fiancée had been raped, had obviously not been forgotten by most of the town.

'_At least they're smart enough to keep their opinions to themselves,'_ Frank thought disgustedly as he now clearly understood that Joe and Vanessa probably dealt with the stares and whispers every day, although he was hard pressed to believe they would ever get used to it.

Frank smiled as he watched Joe and Vanessa engage in yet another heartfelt kiss and was grateful that this time, at least, they had been so wrapped up in each other that they were oblivious to the stares of people passing by. It suddenly struck him that Joe and Vanessa were a perfect example of a couple who had been together for many years yet still cherished every moment together and never took each other for granted. Anyone seeing them for the first time would assume theirs was a newly blossoming romance rather than a rock-solid, long-term relationship.

Frank knew that Joe would always feel guilty for never having told Iola how he really felt about her before she died. He wasn't sure if his brother was trying to make up for that mistake, but Joe was determined that Vanessa would always know how much he loved her, sometimes showering her with overly enthusiastic displays of affection not at all concerned that the rest of the world was watching. Thinking maybe his brother had the right idea – even if he did sometimes take it to extremes – Frank dropped Callie's hand, pulled her close and kissed her.

"Whoa, big brother! Watch those public displays of affection, huh? You're embarrassing me!" Joe teased, repeating the words Frank often said to him.

Frank threw him a dirty look but kept a tight grip on Callie nonetheless, and was grateful when their name was called to be seated.

oooOOOooo

Joe eyed the mushy mixture of vanilla ice cream, fudge and whipped cream in the bottom of Callie's dish. "Are you going to finish that?"

"Joe," Frank protested. "You ate all of yours, half of Vanessa's and mooched as much of mine as you could. Even one-handed you're a menace. Could you at least wait until Callie says she's done before you try and eat hers too?"

"Hey, I'm a growing boy. Besides, ice cream is nutritious, right?" Joe replied, turning to Vanessa for back up. "It has protein and calcium and _vitamins_…all the stuff Dr. Gregory says I need to eat so my arm heals properly." Joe held his sling aloft.

"He's right." Vanessa nodded in agreement. "You wouldn't want to stand in the way of his recovery, would you, Frank?"

"Well, I certainly wouldn't." Callie grinned and pushed her dish across the table towards Joe.

Frank rolled his eyes. "You'll do anything for food."

Joe simply smiled as he dug in to what was left of Callie's hot fudge sundae.

Callie sat up a little and pointed at someone just entering the restaurant. "Hey, there's Phil and Lisa," she said, referring to Phil Cohen, a good friend of the Hardys whom Vanessa had been working for, for the past several months and his girlfriend, Lisa Lessner.

"I wonder what they're doing here," Vanessa mused. "He said they were going into the city tonight." She turned in her seat to look towards the entrance. "Hey, Phil." Vanessa waved the couple over to their table. "I thought you guys were going to the opera tonight?"

"We were, but it was cancelled," Phil explained. "Leona Soris, the lead, was attacked last night." He stopped and shook his head, still in mild shock and disbelief. "Some S.O.B. cut her vocal chords. She'll never even speak again, let alone sing."

Frank felt a chill run down his spine as he heard the others murmur words of disbelief. He didn't recall hearing or seeing anything about the attack but he and Joe had been so busy seeing to all the details that always came with the closing of a case he hadn't really paid attention to the news yet that day.

"How did it happen?" Frank asked.

"According to the news reports, a cab had just dropped her off in front of her house and pulled away. She felt a sting in her neck and blacked out. She was found, unconscious on the steps of the opera house in NYC around two o'clock this morning. She had some cuts on her throat that had been stitched up, almost like surgical incisions the report said. When she got to the ER they found her vocal chords had been severed. They said it looked like someone who basically knew what they were doing."

"So it had to be someone with some kind of medical background," Joe surmised.

"Apparently," Lisa replied and then shuddered. "Can you imagine? One of the best opera singers in the world wakes up and finds she can't speak and probably never will again."

"Why would someone do something so horrible?" Callie said.

Joe turned to look at her but stopped when he saw the look on his brother's face. "Frank?" He waited a few seconds for a response but got none.

"Frank? You've got that look on your face. What do you know that we don't?" Joe asked, feeling that familiar rush that came with each new mystery.

Ignoring Joe, Frank turned his attention to Phil. "Did they mention what the stinging sensation was from? A tranquilizer dart maybe?"

Joe's eyes narrowed as he stared at his brother. "At first, you seemed just as surprised as the rest of us, but not so much now. Are you sure you didn't already know about this?"

"Not _this_ one," Frank replied. "But there was another assault a few days ago. A concert pianist. He was shot with a tranquilizer dart, kidnapped and his hands and fingers were smashed with a hammer. He'll never play the piano again."

"Phil? Did the report say whether this singer was shot with a dart?' Joe asked.

"Actually, yes. She was," Phil replied a little uneasily.

"You think they're connected?" Vanessa looked at Frank.

"I think it's more than a coincidence," he responded.

"Are you guys going to look into it?" Lisa inquired. She didn't know the Hardys well but she knew of their reputation.

"We haven't been asked. And I doubt Sam Peterson would appreciate us just offering up our services no matter how close he and Dad are. It would look like we didn't think the New York City Police Department could handle an investigation without our help," Frank smiled, referring to Fenton Hardy's former partner when he was with the NYPD, who was now the NYPD's chief of police and still one of his best friends.

"Like waiting to be asked ever stopped you before," Vanessa murmured under her breath, winking at Callie.

As the server appeared with their bill, Phil and Lisa bid Frank, Joe, Callie and Vanessa a good night. The foursome left the restaurant and made their way out of the mall to their cars. As Frank headed for home, he couldn't help but think about the two seemingly random attacks and wondered when the next would occur. He had a very strong feeling that this was just the beginning and wished he could be involved in the investigation. Little did he know that he would soon be wishing just the opposite.


	10. Chapter 10

Helen, Polaris, TraSan, Alicia, josie, Calathiel, Miss Fenway, MissMe113, pally, No1butjoe, Liz and franknjoe – thank you so much for reviewing. :-)

**Happy Birthday **

**Chapter 10**

The weekend flew by and Monday morning found the Hardys meeting with a prospective new client, Gregory Linges, an ex-Marine who now worked for a prominent security firm in New York City. Over the weekend his son, Jason, had been attacked and was now paralyzed from the waist down. As Frank and Joe listened to the distressed father's request, they were stunned although for vastly different reasons.

Joe's eyes widened in shock, as he learned one of his favorite pro football players would never walk again. Jason Linges was one year older than Joe, who had followed his college and pro football careers with enthusiasm. Jason had won the Heisman Trophy his senior year at Penn State University, was quickly drafted by the New York Giants and became a starter almost immediately. He'd been considered gifted - a 'prodigy' - and even in his first full year as a professional, every knowledgeable football fan knew they were watching a future Hall of Famer. It was predicted that he would become one of the best running backs in NFL history. Joe had looked forward to watching Linges set records over the course of his career that would probably never be broken.

Frank was almost speechless as he listened to the details of the attack on Linges. After dropping off a date in the early morning hours of Sunday, Jason had driven back to his northern New Jersey estate. As he got out of his car in front of the house, he felt a sharp, stinging pain in his neck. He hadn't passed out immediately and felt the area, shocked to find a dart lodged in his neck. Although he felt woozy, he began walking towards the front door when he was struck with a second dart, this one bringing him to his knees. Seconds later he was unconscious. He was found late Sunday morning by a couple of joggers at the entrance to his driveway. When he awoke in the hospital, he was told his spinal cord had been severed with surgical precision – he would never walk again. The emergency room personnel had found an incision on Jason's back where the attacker had obviously used medical instruments to gain access to, and sever, his spinal cord and then stitched the incision closed.

As Gregory Linges finished telling them about his son, the Hardys sat quietly for a moment, trying to digest all the information. Joe was the first to speak.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Linges. I was huge fan of Jason's." He wanted desperately to find the person who had done this but knew he had to wait and see if Frank and his father would also want to take the case.

Linges gave him a sad smile. "Thank you. That's nice to hear."

"How old is Jason?" Fenton asked.

"Twenty-four. He'll be twenty-five in a few weeks." He looked at the floor and shook his head. "Some birthday that'll be."

"If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Linges, is there any particular reason you don't feel the police can handle this matter?"

"I have the utmost faith in the police department, Mr. Hardy. I'm ex-military police myself. It's just that to them Jason is one of thousands of cases they are working on. To you he would be the top priority."

"Do the police know you're here?"

Linges smiled wryly before answering. "They're the ones who recommended you. I told Sam Peterson I knew his department could find the person who did this – eventually. But I wanted them found _immediately_. I don't want any other father to have to go through what I am right now." He stopped a moment, taking a deep breath. "I told Chief Peterson there was no question that I would be hiring a private investigator and he couldn't talk me out of it. So I told him he might as well give me a recommendation. That way at least he would be working with someone he knew and respected. Plus, I wanted the best and who would know that better than the police."

"Sam and I go way back," Fenton smiled. "But I'll bet he still wasn't happy about it."

"No," Linges admitted. "But when he realized I wouldn't be talked out of it he went out of his way to help. And after he gave me your names, I did a little investigating myself. You're the best and I only want the best for my son. So, will you take the case?"

Fenton knew he didn't even have to ask Joe, knowing his younger son would jump at the chance to catch the person who had cut short such a promising career. He was about to ask Gregory Linges to step into the reception area so he could get Frank's thoughts on the case, but when he looked at his older son Frank simply nodded in agreement.

"Yes," Fenton replied.

"Excellent." Almost immediately Linges began pulling papers, reports, forms and other items out of the briefcase he had brought with him. "I have copies of all the police reports and Jason's medical records when he was brought to the hospital." He placed a pile of papers on the desk in front of Fenton.

Frank was slightly taken aback at the man's foresight and looked at his brother. Joe's eyebrows had shot up in surprise as he stared at the papers on the desk. Nudging Joe in an effort to bring him back to the task at hand, Frank was once again dumbfounded as Gregory Linges pulled more files out of the open briefcase he had balanced on his knees.

"I'm not trying to tell you how to do your jobs but like I said, I'm ex-military police." He offered Fenton a much smaller stack of papers that appeared to be police reports. "There were two other attacks prior to Jason's. Both of the victims were shot with a tranquilizer dart, taken somewhere else and…"

"Assaulted," Frank finished, his blood running cold. "A concert pianist whose hands were smashed. He'll never play piano again. They're not even sure he'll regain the use of his hands for everyday use. And an opera singer whose vocal chords were cut. She'll never even speak again."

"Yes," Linges concurred staring at Frank a little awed, before continuing. "I know you would have found out about the other two once you started your investigation, but I figured no sense in wasting time." He took in both Joe and Fenton with a sweeping gaze. "The fact that they were all essentially initially disabled with a tranquilizer dart is too much to be a coincidence."

"I agree," Fenton replied, already scrutinizing the reports.

"Well, I'll leave you to find this…animal," Linges said with the first and only show of emotion he'd had since arriving. Standing he extended his hand first to Fenton, then Joe and Frank. "Thank you very much for taking this case. It won't change what happened to Jason, but just knowing the person who did it is off the streets and paying for it… well, that will be a help in his recovery…and readjustment."

"We'll do our best, Mr. Linges," Joe said as he shook the man's hand.

"Then I have every confidence they'll be caught very soon." After shaking hands with Frank, Linges turned back to Fenton and handed him a business card. "My office and cell phone numbers are on there. I've written my home number on the back."

"We'll keep you informed," Fenton promised as he took the card and watched the man leave.

Looking at Frank, who was already perusing the police report of Jason's attack, and Joe who was hunched over, reading over his brother's shoulder, Fenton wasn't sure how he would react if one of his son's had been paralyzed in such a senseless attack. He watched as Joe straightened up a little bit and unconsciously began rubbing his left arm. According to his therapist, it was a sure sign he was thinking about his own abduction and senseless abuse.

For a split second, Fenton wondered if it might be better for Joe not to work on this case if this was his response to simply reading a police report. Sam Radley, Fenton's assistant was working on a few cases and would love to have Joe's help. As quickly as the thought came, Fenton dismissed it. He knew there would be no tearing Joe away from this case, no matter how many bad memories it dredged up.

Feeling as if he were being watched, Fenton noticed that although Frank hadn't moved an inch, his eyes were now squarely on his father. As soon as he knew he had Fenton's attention, he shifted his gaze to Joe for a second, who was still rubbing his arm although he was totally engrossed in the report, and then back to his father in a silent question.

'_Should he really be working on this case? Look what it's doing to him already.'_

Fenton gave a very small shake of his head, not wanting Joe to see their silent exchange. He could tell by Frank's raised eyebrows that he did not agree. Just then a low beeping sound began, startling both Frank and Fenton.

"Shoot," Joe complained looking at his watch and pressing a button to turn off the alarm he had obviously set to remind himself of something. He looked at his father and brother sheepishly. "I have an appointment with Linda," he told them referring to the therapist he had started seeing while in the Campbell Psychiatric Center when a flood of traumatic childhood memories had finally decided to make themselves known almost six months earlier. "I can reschedule it…" He reached for the phone on his father's desk.

"Absolutely not," Fenton cut him off.

"But Dad…" Joe pleaded.

"No. You _never_ cancel an appointment with Linda to work on a case. That was the agreement," Fenton was adamant.

Joe looked at his brother in a silent plea for support.

"Sorry, Joe," Frank shook his head. "I'm with Dad on this one. And that is what you agreed to."

Joe was about to object when he realized it would be futile. "Fine. I'll be back in an hour. Just don't solve the case before I get back," he said dejectedly as he walked out of the office, shoulders slumped in defeat.

Frank waited until he heard Joe's car start up before voicing his concern. "Do you think it's a good idea for him to work on this? I swear he grabbed his arm, before Linges was even out of the room. Didn't Linda say that means he's thinking about Rashman and everything that happened?" Frank demanded anxiously.

"She said that was the most likely explanation," Fenton confirmed. "Which makes sense since he doesn't even realize he's doing it."

"Then he needs to be working on something else," Frank said forcefully. "He doesn't need to be reminded of that."

Fenton sighed inwardly. "And how exactly are you going to convince him not to work on this? He didn't even want to be left out of it for an hour, Frank."

"I can't believe you! You don't even care if it brings up all those memories for him!" Frank yelled, incredulous.

"Of course I do," Fenton replied calmly, knowing Frank needed an outlet for all the anger he still held inside for Keith Rashman that he had yet to come to terms with. "But do you honestly think those memories are ever very far from the surface for Joe?"

Frank slumped in his seat, knowing his father was right and hating it.

"Work is the best thing for him. And there is nothing that will make him give up the chance to help one of his football heroes."

"I guess." Frank didn't sound too convinced.

"This appointment with Linda was perfect timing. Let's give him a little credit, huh? I'm sure he'll be fine," Fenton smiled.

Frank nodded his reluctant agreement.

"Why don't we grab some lunch? That way Joe won't miss a thing."

"Good idea." Frank finally smiled, knowing Joe sometimes came back from his appointments with Linda a little depressed. Nothing would cheer him up faster than knowing Frank and Fenton had waited for him before really digging into the case.


	11. Chapter 11

Helen: Thank you so much! :-) I think the plot of this story is my favorite of almost all the stories I've written.

Polaris: Thank you! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story.

Liz: Thanks! That's not the first time I've been called evil! LOL! :p

Calathiel: Your description of the perpetrator is pretty much right on the money. ;-)

Josie: Yeah, Frank is still on that anger thing… ;-)

MissMe113: LOL! I do hope you didn't dream about a field of legs!! :o

Iola: Yup, the victims are all Frank's age… ;-) We'll see more of Callie later in the story. And I'm so glad you like her! She gets treated pretty badly in most fanfic so I try to write her in a good light.

Miss Fenway: LOL! Poor Joe indeed! :p

TraSan: Yup, Joe needs to keep his mind occupied so those memories stay buried a little further down. ;-) But ya gotta love Frank for being so Big Brother.

No1butjoe: LOL! Did Joe scream in that chapter?? Or were speaking figuratively? :p

Pally: LOL!! Does that mean you're just as twisted as me?? :p

Thanks for the awesome reviews and thank you to everyone who is reading. :-)

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 11**

Frank pulled to a stop in front of the headquarters of the New York City Police Department.

"After you interview the two victims meet me back here," Fenton Hardy said from the backseat as he opened the car door. "Hopefully, after Sam and I compare notes, we'll have a better idea of exactly who and what we are dealing with."

"Okay. See you later, Dad," Joe replied from the passenger seat.

Checking the rearview and side mirrors, Frank waited for a break in the traffic and smoothly rejoined the flow. "What's Graham's address again?"

"322 East 22nd Street. Not too far from here." Joe glanced out the window, craning his neck to get a better view of the towering office buildings. "So when are we going to do another long weekend here? Van and I had a blast. Callie would've made a great cruise director," Joe said absently, referring to the weekend the four of them had spent in New York City a few months earlier. Callie had made all the plans and arrangements and made sure to include all the things Joe and Vanessa loved to do whenever they visited the city.

"Maybe we can fit one in soon. I'll check with Callie." Frank smiled, glad Joe still remembered that weekend fondly. Callie had planned the entire trip to keep Joe and Vanessa so busy that they wouldn't have time to think about the fact that it was the one month anniversary of the day Joe had been found not guilty of murdering Vanessa's rapist. Unfortunately, it was also the weekend that started a chain of events resulting in Callie being blackmailed and Vanessa being kidnapped. Frank was happy to see Joe focused on the positive aspect of those three days and was eager to do it again.

Glancing at his brother, Frank noted that while Joe seemed occupied with the scenery passing by, he was holding his left arm close to his chest and running his right hand up and down it every few seconds.

"How's Vanessa's job going?" Frank asked, hoping to get Joe's mind off whatever disturbing thoughts were causing him to revert to this new, subconscious habit of his.

"Great." Joe turned and smiled at Frank, automatically releasing his arm. "Phil is so excited about what she's accomplished in such a short period of time that he's already talking about giving her a raise. And she's been working for him less than five months!"

"I'm not surprised." Frank pulled into an empty parking space. "When it comes to computer graphics she's one of the best." Turning off the car he unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car with Joe doing the same. "It should be up here on the right."

The two brothers walked past a few town homes, stopping in front of one of them. Joe consulted the slip of paper in his hand. "322. This is the one." Climbing the steps to the front door, he reached out and rang the bell. A moment later the door opened to reveal a woman in her late forties, with reddish-brown hair and hazel eyes.

"May I help you?"

"Frank and Joe Hardy to see Kent Graham," Joe replied.

"Oh, right. He's expecting you. Come in." She stepped aside and ushered them into the entryway. "I'm Sarah Graham, Kent's mother." She extended a hand to Joe and then Frank. "He still needs quite a bit of help, so I've moved in temporarily," she said sadly. "I know the police are doing everything they can to catch whoever did this, but I have to say I'm glad you're also working on it, too. The sooner this person is caught, the better." She motioned for them to follow her down the hall and led them to the living room. As they entered, a young man with the same shade of reddish-brown hair looked up from the papers he was reading.

"Kent, this is Joe Hardy." She gestured towards Joe. "And his brother Frank. I'll leave the three of you alone. Just yell if you need anything."

"Thanks, Mom." The young man stood up and faced the Hardys. "Please have a seat." He smiled, waiting for Frank and Joe to sit down before doing so himself. "I was a little surprised when I got your phone call yesterday. I'll admit I've been in my own little world ever since this happened." He held up his bandaged hands. "I had no idea two other people had been attacked in the same manner. And Leona was one of them…" his voice trailed off.

"You know her?" Joe asked a little surprised.

Kent nodded. "We're acquainted. We move in the same circles, she being an opera singer and me a concert pianist." His smile faded as he amended his words. "Well, at least we were."

Joe exchanged a look with his brother, wondering if this new information would have any bearing on the case.

"So, you wanted to ask me some questions?" Kent looked from Joe to Frank.

"If you don't mind." Frank acknowledged. "I know you've already told the police, more than once, but it would be a big help if you could tell us exactly what happened the night you were attacked."

Kent frowned in concentration for a moment, trying to organize his thoughts before he began to speak.

"Unfortunately, there's not much to tell. I was returning home after rehearsal. We couldn't quite get it together that night so everything ran later than expected. The symphony complex isn't too far from here. I usually walk unless the weather is really bad; never had any problems at all. Anyway, I had just gotten to the steps in front of my house when I felt something sharp hit me in the neck." He turned his head slightly and gestured to the spot where he had been shot with the dart.

"I blacked out almost immediately. The next thing I knew, I was in the emergency room." His voice dropped considerably as he looked at his bandaged hands. "They told me my hands were smashed with some kind of hammer. The doctors think that eventually, after a lot of surgery, I might be able to do learn how to do everyday things, so I won't need around the clock help. But it's obvious I'll never play piano again," he said sadly. There was silence for a moment before Kent smiled. "Ah, well, I always intended to try my hand at conducting one day. I guess it'll just happen a lot sooner than I had planned."

Realizing the young man wouldn't be able to tell them any more than they already knew from the police report, Frank pulled a business card out and laid it on the table. "If you remember anything else, even if it seems insignificant, please give us a call."

Kent glanced at the card. "I will. I sure hope you catch this guy. I mean walking along, just living your life one minute, and the next thing you know you wake up somewhere else and realize you have no idea what's happened or how you got there, it's very…" He stopped, searching for just the right word.

"Unnerving," Joe said quietly.

Kent looked at Joe curiously. "Exactly."

Glancing at his brother, Frank saw Joe was once again holding his left arm close to his body, rubbing it with his right hand. He quickly stood up, wanting to get Joe out of there, sensing the bad memories he was reliving.

"Thanks again, Kent," Frank said, nudging Joe towards the door.

oooOOOooo

Fenton sat on the couch in Sam Peterson's office listening intently as Sam brought him up to date on everything the police had uncovered.

"Whoever it is has some kind of medical background," Sam told him. "A surgeon or surgical nurse, an EMT, resident, intern, physician… some kind of experience in the operating room. Especially with the last two victims – Leona Soris and Jason Linges – the assailant knew exactly what they were doing. The wounds were inflicted with almost surgical precision. They were very specific and permanent. No other surrounding tissues or organs were damaged. And the wounds were sutured."

"Both of them?" Fenton asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes. Almost as if they were being operated on rather than assaulted."

Fenton looked over the three police reports again. "The first two were both very well known in the music industry. But how would a professional football player tie in with them?" he mused, thinking out loud. "Does Linges have some kind of musical background that we don't know about?"

"No. We asked his father, hoping that might be the connection but apparently he has no musical inclinations whatsoever. He's been a classic 'jock' his whole life. Right now the only thing we can find that all three of them have in common is that they are all twenty-four years old."

Fenton sat back and sighed. "Maybe Frank and Joe will have better luck."

oooOOOooo

As Frank drove back towards the police station after meeting with Leona Soris, he sighed in frustration. Neither she nor Kent Graham had been able to give them any new information and he hoped his father was having better luck with Sam Peterson. Looking at Joe in the passenger seat, Frank realized the case was bringing back painful memories of Joe's own abduction and brutal assault only two months earlier.

Watching as Joe stared out the window at the passing landscape, Frank couldn't help but notice how Joe held his left arm close to his body, completely unaware he was doing so. Frank worried about the toll the case might be taking on his brother. He knew work was the best thing for Joe but couldn't help but wish they hadn't gotten this type of case so soon after Joe had come back to work. Little did Frank know that he should be more concerned about the toll this case would be taking on him rather than Joe.


	12. Chapter 12

Thank so much for the wonderful reviews. :-)

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 12**

The previous day's trip to New York City had netted very little new information for the Hardys who now sat at the conference table in Fenton's office poring over what they did know, trying to determine what the victims had in common.

"The one thing they all have in common that stands out is the fact that they are all twenty-four years old," Fenton commented.

"Same age as me," Frank said, absently.

"I hope that doesn't mean something," Joe joked.

Frank laughed. "Unless this guy is going after everyone on the planet who's twenty-four, I think I'm safe."

"That would be pretty ambitious. I doubt you're in any danger," Fenton joined in the joking. He quickly sobered as he saw Joe frowning in concentration. "Did you find something, Joe?"

"I'm not sure. I mean it could be nothing but…"

"But it could be everything. What is it?" Frank prodded his brother.

"Well, they were all hugely successful in their careers. Isn't that pretty unusual considering they're so young?"

Fenton shuffled a few papers, scanning the contents. "You're right."

"Do you think that's it? That's the common denominator?"

"I think there's more to it than just the fact that they were all successful so young, but I have a feeling you're on the right track," Fenton said encouragingly.

"Child prodigies," Frank observed, looking up. "They were all considered child prodigies in their field."

"So they were all 'gifted', so to speak. And they're all twenty-four years old. Now we're getting somewhere."

Frank was about to speak, when a low beeping sound stopped him. Trying to hide a smile, he turned to his brother. "What's the appointment for this time?"

Joe slumped back in his chair, holding his left arm up. "Therapy," he answered glumly. "Why do these appointments always come up just when we're getting to the good stuff?" Joe complained. He looked longingly at the papers spread out on the conference table then gazed at his father pleadingly. Fenton arched an eyebrow letting his silence speak for itself.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Therapy comes first, work second," Joe said with disgust. Collecting his copies of the reports, Joe pushed his chair back from the table, stood and trudged half-heartedly towards the door.

"Call me when you get home." Frank called out to him, which Joe rewarded with a dismissive wave of his hand.

oooOOOooo

Several hours later Joe lay on the couch in his apartment, eyes closed wondering when the hydrotherapy and rehabilitative exercises for his arm would cease being excruciatingly painful and become simply uncomfortable. In an effort to forget the constant throbbing in his arm, Joe concentrated on the discussion he'd had with Dr. Gregory right after his therapy session, hoping the aspirin he took would hurry up and kick in.

Ever since his one error in judgment when he'd been hospitalized in Chicago and turned to morphine for an emotional escape, Joe had decided to forgo any kind of prescription painkillers and tough it out with whatever over the counter concoction would work. He still shuddered recalling how quickly that one little pill had taken away all his pain and made everything bearable again, now fully understanding how easy it was for someone to become addicted to that feeling.

Attempting to find a more comfortable position, Joe briefly thought about getting the prescription Dr. Gregory had given him filled and immediately decided against it. Other than the hour or two following his therapy sessions, the physical pain was almost non-existent. The mental and emotional pain, however, was a different story entirely. As they always did when Joe was alone with his thoughts, the horrible memories of his abduction came roaring back full force bringing with it the guilt and fear. Although he'd made a few attempts in sessions with his therapist, Linda, to work through his emotions about the torture he had endured, Joe still wasn't able to come to terms with his own feelings.

Feeling the familiar burning sensation of tears whenever he let his mind wander in this direction, Joe instinctively curled his right hand into a fist, unaware that his nails were digging into his palm. The same taunting questions swirled in his head; questions he had no answers for.

'_Why couldn't I hold on? When did I become so weak? So weak that I just wanted to die?'_

As far as his family and friends were concerned, Joe had been something of a hero, sacrificing himself to ensure the safety of a United States Senator and the President. Yet every time he looked in the mirror at his own reflection, one word popped into his head – coward. He'd been kidnapped too many times to count, sometimes beaten mercilessly in the process, and never once felt the way he did now – scared.

'_Stop!'_ Joe commanded himself. _'You need to get over it. Rashman will eventually come to trial. You'll have to testify. There's no way around it and you can't let him see he got to you!'_

Trying to regain control of his emotions, he recalled Frank's promise.

_"I'll help you deal with it. I'll hold your hand. I'll be your punching bag."_

'_Maybe…'_ Joe thought. His attempts to deal with it in therapy had always ended horribly, although Joe wasn't quite sure why. Deciding maybe it would be a good idea to talk to Frank about it, Joe made a mental note to take his brother up on his offer of a shoulder to lean on. _'Maybe my intellectually gifted brother will be able to make sense of it all,'_ Joe thought wryly, feeling a little better.

Noticing that the throbbing pain in his arm had diminished considerably to a dull ache, Joe sat up and glanced at the reports he'd brought home with him, now laying on the coffee table. Prior to his nightmare in Chicago, Joe sometimes felt as if he weren't pulling his own weight at work with all the therapy appointments he had. Now with the additional time he had to spend working with a physical therapist, hoping to regain all the strength and range of motion in his arm, he couldn't help but feel he was letting his father and brother down.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Joe said out loud, looking at the police report on Kent Graham. "At least you still _have_ your arm. Now get to work."

With a new sense of purpose, Joe methodically began scrutinizing each report. He knew there had to be another connection between all the victims besides their age and success. He had a strong feeling it was somewhere on those reports, staring him in the face and he just wasn't seeing it. Having become engrossed in his search, Joe was startled when he heard a key in the lock and the door swung open.

Vanessa smiled at him as she walked into the apartment.

"Hey, Babe." Joe opened his arms invitingly.

Dropping her things on a chair, Vanessa quickly scrambled into Joe's waiting embrace, gracing him with a long, lingering kiss.

Reluctantly pulling away several minutes later, she let her fingertips run over his left arm. "How was therapy today?"

"Good." It was the same answer he gave whenever anyone asked, but he surprised Vanessa with a follow up. "I saw Dr. Gregory today too."

"And?" Vanessa asked, sensing good news for a change.

"He said there's a very good chance I won't need skin grafts after all."

Vanessa threw her arms around his neck. "Joe, that's great news!"

"I guess all those vitamins paid off." Joe laughed and hugged her tightly.

"Have you told Frank or your mother?"

"Nope."

"Why not?" Vanessa asked, looking at him with mild concern.

"Because I wanted you to be the first to know." He leaned in and kissed her softly. Releasing her a moment later, he glanced down at the papers on the coffee table.

Vanessa followed his gaze. "How's it going? Any progress?"

"A little. But we need a lot more."

"Then I won't bother you any more." Vanessa stood and with a final kiss, collected up her things. "Let me know if I can help. And don't forget to call your Mom. And Frank," she called out over her shoulder as she headed down the hall towards the bedroom, allowing Joe to return all his attention to the reports.

Picking up the papers once again, Joe tried to look at them as if he were seeing them for the first time. Three assaults. All of the victims permanently disabled in some way. What was the common denominator?

'_They're all twenty-four years old, but there has to be more than that.'_ Joe frowned in concentration. _'Twenty-four years old…maybe…'_

Joe picked up the report on the first victim and scanned the first page.

**"Date of Birth: July 14, 1977. Place of Birth: New York, NY."**

Looking at the second report, his eyebrows shot up.

**"Date of Birth: July 14, 1977. Place of Birth: New York, NY."**

Joe felt the familiar butterflies in his stomach that always made an appearance when one of his gut instincts was about to pay off in a big way. Quickly scanning the third report, he sucked in his breath, excitement gleaming in his blue eyes.

**"Date of Birth: July 14, 1977. Place of Birth: New York, NY."**

All three victims had been born on July 14, 1977 in New York City. Had he found the elusive common denominator?

Wanting to share the information with his father and Frank as soon as possible, Joe was just about to pick up the phone when the reality of his discovery hit him. He looked at the reports once again, this time with dread, no longer wanting to see the same birth date and birthplace on every page. The excitement Joe had felt only seconds earlier suddenly turned to apprehension…and fear.

'_It's just a coincidence. Nothing to worry about,'_ Joe desperately tried to convince himself. _'Coincidence. That's all.'_

The butterflies in his stomach told him otherwise. And they were never wrong.


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! You guys are great! :-) As for Frank's birthday… I won't keep you in suspense. ;-)

**Happy Birthday **

**Chapter 13**

"Vanessa? Can you come out here a minute?" Joe called out.

Curled up on the love seat in the office reading a book, Vanessa got up and hurried to the living room, noting an undercurrent of urgency in Joe's voice.

"What is it?" She took a seat on the couch next to Joe.

"I think I found something." He said handed the reports to her and pointed out the birth date of each victim. "Look. They were all born on the same day."

"That's Frank's birthday," Vanessa murmured.

"Uh-huh. And he was born in New York City, too. Do you think you could work your magic on the computer and see if there's anything else they all have in common?"

"I could try. Do you have any idea what it could be?" Vanessa asked, getting up. Joe followed her down the hall to the office. She sat down in front of the computer and looked at Joe.

He pulled a chair up next to her and smiled sheepishly. "Um…not really."

She gave him a smile of her own. "That's okay. Let's see what we can find."

For the next fifteen minutes, Vanessa entered the information from the reports into the computer. Pulling up the program she needed, Vanessa began entering various parameters for a search. Joe watched, almost mesmerized, as Vanessa's fingers flew over the keyboard, a look of intense concentration on her face. Sitting back, she looked at the monitor critically, absently chewing on her lower lip, deep in thought.

Joe leaned forward, whispering in her ear, "Do you know how sexy you look right now?"

Vanessa smiled as Joe planted a few well-placed kisses on her neck, and then gently pushed him away.

"If you keep doing _that_, I'll never finish _this_."

"Spoilsport," Joe grumbled and contented himself with running his fingers through her long, ash-blonde hair.

A few minutes later, Vanessa sat back in her chair, snuggling a little closer to Joe. "If they have anything else in common, we should know in a minute."

"So can I go back to what I was doing before, while we wait?" Joe buried his face in her neck without waiting for a reply. Almost immediately, a beep sounded alerting them to a match.

Joe groaned and pulled away from a laughing Vanessa. "I hate computers."

"Lenox Hill Hospital." Vanessa pointed at the screen. "They were all born in the same hospital."

"In the same city, on the same day," Joe said thinking out loud. Reaching forward, he picked up the phone and dialed his parents' number.

_"Hello?"_

"Hi, Mom."

_"Hi, honey. How was therapy today?" _

"Good," Joe replied, rolling his eyes at Vanessa. "Can I ask you a question?"

_"Sure. What is it?"_

"What hospital was Frank born in?"

_"Lenox Hill Hospital. Why?" _

"No reason," Joe lied.

_"Out of the blue you suddenly had a burning need to know what hospital your brother was born in?"_ The sarcasm in Laura's voice was identical to the tone Joe often used.

"Something like that," Joe responded evasively.

_"You don't expect me to buy that do you?"_

"Well…no, but…"

_"Don't worry, I won't ask."_

"Thanks, Mom."

_"You're welcome. Now I want something more than 'good' as a response to my question. How was therapy? Are you making progress? Have you seen Dr. Gregory recently?"_

Joe relayed the good news from his doctor resulting in such loud squeals of delight from Laura that Joe had to pull the phone away from his ear. Erupting in laughter, Vanessa sat back and listened to Joe's half of the conversation

"I will." Pause. "I will." Another pause. "I will." Joe said a third time, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice, silenced by a light slap on the leg from Vanessa.

"Yes." Joe sighed, staring at the ceiling. "Okay. Uh-huh. Yeah. Love you too, Mom. Bye."

Putting the phone down, he turned to Vanessa with a pleading look. "Please don't make me call Frank now. He'll be worse than Mom was."

"She loves you, Joe. Be glad she cares so much," Vanessa gently reprimanded him.

"I know." He sighed. "And I am glad, believe me. But sometimes I feel like I'm being smothered. Between her and Frank…"

"…and me?" Vanessa asked, knowing how much Joe hated people 'hovering' over him.

Joe smiled at her and wisely ignored the question. "It just gets a little overwhelming."

"You have to remember it was only two months ago that we almost lost you," Vanessa said, her voice shaky.

Joe quickly pulled Vanessa into his arms, regretting his 'complaints' about being smothered. He tried to imagine what it was like for his family waiting, wondering and worrying about him. He thought about how they must have felt when he was finally found, when they saw him for the first time in the hospital, not knowing whether he would live or die. Listening to Vanessa crying softly, he knew she was reliving the whole horrible experience.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, lifting a tear stained face to look at him.

"Don't apologize." Joe smiled, wiping away the last of her tears. "It's nice to know I'm loved."

Straightening up, Vanessa sniffled and then turned back to the computer. "Okay, so now you know that all three victims were born on July 14, 1977 in Lenox Hill Hospital in New York City. What hospital was Frank born in?" she asked, realizing Joe hadn't passed on that information.

He hesitated a moment before answering. "Lenox Hill."

"Oh." There was silence for a moment. "So where do you want to go from here?"

Joe thought before answering. "Is there a way you can get a list of everyone who was born in that hospital on July 14, 1977?"

"I should be able to. It's public record." She logged on to the Internet and after a few unsuccessful searches, she found the information Joe requested and printed it out.

Comparing the list Vanessa gave him to the police reports, Joe pointed out to Vanessa that the three victims were assaulted in the order they were born.

"But there are other people who were skipped," she said, noticing names in between those of Kent Graham, Leona Soris and Jason Linges. "Why were these three chosen and the others weren't?"

Joe glanced back and forth between the reports and the list before finally throwing up his hands in defeat. "I have no idea," he said, obviously frustrated.

"Hey, you made a lot of progress," Vanessa reminded him. "Don't be so hard on yourself. I'm sure when you talk it out with your Dad and Frank tomorrow you'll figure it all out."

"Thanks." Joe smiled gratefully at her confidence in him, hoping she was right. Still, he couldn't escape the gnawing feeling that Frank, having been born on the same day in the same hospital as the three victims was much more than mere coincidence.


	14. Chapter 14

I work in retail. It's Christmas season. I think that pretty much covers it. :-/ THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed! When I get the urge to murder one of the annoying customers I think of your reviews and smile. :-)

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 14**

Joe had spent the rest of the evening trying to convince himself that Frank having so much in common with the victims was simply a coincidence. Rolling onto his side, he looked at the clock on the nightstand and saw he'd been lying in bed, tossing and turning, for over two hours.

"Honey, just call one of them." Vanessa's sleepy voice made him wince as he realized his restlessness had kept her awake. "I'm sure you'll feel better once you talk it out."

Joe sat up knowing she was right. "Sorry, Babe." He leaned down to kiss her before getting out of bed.

"Mmmm. It's okay," Vanessa replied with a yawn. She wasn't exactly sure what was troubling Joe, but knew it had something to do with what he'd found out that evening. He'd been trying to hide it all night, but she knew he was worried about Frank.

Joe smiled to himself as he stood and watched her drift off to sleep. Sometimes she knew him better than he knew himself. He stared at her a moment longer thinking that despite all the misfortune fate had thrown at them the past six months, he was still the luckiest man on earth.

Quietly making his way down the hall to the small office, Joe closed the door and walked over to the desk. Taking a seat, he got out all the papers he and Vanessa had been looking over earlier. Reaching for the phone he stopped, unsure of whom to call. Not wanting to worry his brother based on a gut feeling, he decided to call his father. He dialed the number, knowing his father would grab the phone on the first ring, having become accustomed to late night calls.

"Hello." Fenton didn't sound the least bit sleepy.

"Hi, Dad."

"Joe? Are you okay? Is Vanessa all right?" Fenton asked, instantly alarmed.

"Yeah, we're fine," Joe quickly reassured him.

"You're sure?" Fenton pressed.

"Yeah. I'm sorry for calling so late." Joe suddenly wondered if this was such a good idea.

"You can call me anytime, Joe, day or night. For anything. You know that. Is there something you need to talk about?"

Joe could tell by the soft background noises that his father had left the bedroom and walked down the stairs, probably to the kitchen or the living room.

"Well…yeah, there is. After I got home from therapy I was looking over the notes and reports from the case and I found a connection between all three victims. Something besides their age and how successful they are."

"Joe, that's great!" Fenton exclaimed. "Frank and I worked on it for hours after you left and couldn't come up with a thing." He stopped, suddenly realizing Joe didn't sound very happy about his discovery. "What is it you found?"

"All three victims were born on the same day, in the same city, in the same hospital," Joe answered, still not showing much enthusiasm over his findings. "July 14, 1977, in Lenox Hill Hospital, New York City." He wasn't at all surprised at the deafening silence that followed.

It was almost a full minute before Fenton spoke again, very quietly. "Frank was born on July 14, 1977 at Lenox Hill Hospital."

"I know. I called Mom earlier and asked her," Joe admitted. "Dad, do you think…"

"That's a long shot, Joe." Fenton's response was quick and reassuring. "A lot of people were born on that day in that hospital and there are only three victims. Did you find out anything else?"

"Vanessa helped me get a list of everyone born on that day in Lenox Hill Hospital. The three victims were attacked in the order they were born. But there were people who were born in between them, that haven't been assaulted."

"So it doesn't necessarily mean _everyone_ born on that day will be targeted. But you are definitely on to something."

"Do you think we should call Frank?"

Fenton hesitated a moment. Joe had obviously called him not so much to share what he had discovered, but because he was concerned that his brother might become a victim. He knew the only thing Joe really wanted was reassurance that Frank was not in any immediate danger.

"I don't think we need to wake him up. All the victims were attacked late at night, _outside_ their homes, when they were alone. Frank is already home, hopefully sleeping right now and he has no reason to go out tonight. And he's not alone. I think we can wait until tomorrow to tell him about this. I'm sure he'll be fine," Fenton assured Joe, smiling when he heard an audible sigh of relief.

"Thanks, Dad." Joe felt a little more at ease.

"You're welcome. Now get some sleep, okay?"

"Okay. Night, Dad."

"Goodnight."

oooOOOooo

Frank walked into the office to see his father and Joe huddled over the conference table, papers spread everywhere. Striding purposefully to the table, he pulled out the chair next to his brother and sat down, not even trying to hide his annoyance.

"Thanks a lot, Joe. You couldn't even be bothered to call and tell me yourself. I had to hear it about it second hand," Frank said, obviously dismayed. "No, make that _third_ hand," he corrected himself, looking rather put out.

Joe quickly looked at his father, his blue eyes huge. Fenton shook his head no, indicating he hadn't spoken to Frank about their late night call and had no idea what his older son was referring to.

"Um…I'm sorry," Joe apologized, hoping to buy some time to figure out why Frank was angry with him.

"I mean _really_, Joe. I had to find out from Callie, who found out from Vanessa. Did you know about it, Dad?" Frank turned his withering gaze on Fenton.

"Uh…well…to be honest, Frank, I have no idea what you're talking about," Fenton admitted.

"So I guess he didn't tell you either." Frank snorted, oddly relieved that he wasn't the only one who had been left out of the loop.

"Tell you _what_?" Joe asked, frustrated. Something he had done, or hadn't done, had obviously upset his brother and he wanted to make it right.

"Oh, come on, Joe! Tell me about your appointment with Dr. Gregory!" Frank exclaimed. "You didn't think I'd want to hear something like that right away?! We've had more than enough bad news lately. I thought you'd jump at the chance to share some good news for once. Guess I was wrong," Frank finished, a wounded tone in his voice.

"Dr. Gregory…" Joe said, thinking out loud. "Oh, shoot! I'm sorry, Frank!" Joe cried out, smacking himself in the forehead.

With the disturbing discovery he had made the day before and the ensuing arguments with himself that Frank was not in any danger, Joe had completely forgotten to call Frank after his therapy appointment.

'_Well, not exactly...'_ Joe thought, eyeing the smoldering look on his brother's face. Joe knew he wouldn't be able to hide his apprehension from Frank and so had just avoided calling his brother until it was too late to do so. Putting two and two together, Joe realized Vanessa and Callie must have spoken that morning, before Frank left for work. Vanessa had apparently told Callie what Dr. Gergory had said – something Frank definitely should have heard from Joe firsthand.

"I…got busy…working on the case. And by the time I realized I hadn't called you, it was way too late. I didn't want to wake you up."

Fenton watched, relieved that it appeared to be just a simple misunderstanding between his sons. Wisely, he remained silent, not telling Frank that Laura had shared Joe's good news with him the second she got off the phone.

"You can call me anytime, Joe and you know that! It's never too late especially with news like that!" Frank sounded hurt.

"Frank, I'm sorry. Really. I just forgot. I know between this and not telling you about the vitamins you probably think I'm brain dead, but I'm not. Honest. I'm just…" Joe gave his brother a cheeky smile, a twinkle in his eyes, "…_blonde_."

Frank tried to remain angry, just to make his point, but found he couldn't contain a small chuckle. "Oh, all right. Apology accepted. But don't let it happen again," he warned. "So, did you make any progress on the case? Dad and I struck out." Seeing the uneasy look that passed between Joe and Fenton, Frank got the feeling there was something else he hadn't been told.

"Actually, he made quite a bit of progress," Fenton began. "He found out that all the victims were born on July 14, 1977."

"Really?" Frank's eyebrows shot up. "That's my birthday."

"And they were all born in New York City," Joe continued.

"Same as me…again," Frank noted.

"And they were all born in Lenox Hill Hospital."

Frank looked at his father, knowing he didn't need to ask the question out loud.

"Yes, you were born in Lenox Hill Hospital," Fenton confirmed soberly.

As Frank sat and digested this information, Joe handed him a piece of paper. "Vanessa helped me find a list of everyone born in that hospital on July 14, 1977. Graham, Soris and Linges were all attacked in the order they were born, but there are people who were born in between them who _weren't_ attacked."

"So whoever is doing this isn't necessarily targeting _everyone_ who was born in Lenox Hill on that day," Frank surmised, feeling oddly relieved.

"Right. But those three obviously have some kind of connection that made them targets. If we can figure out what that is, we might be able to figure out who's next," Fenton said.

"But that still doesn't tell us who's doing it?" Frank frowned as he looked over the list of names. Looking back to the top of the list, he gasped out loud.

"What?" Joe asked, concerned.

"Blake Sansom," Frank murmured in surprise. "Blake Sansom was the first baby born on that day."

"But he has nothing to do with this case," Joe reminded him. "He was attacked over six months ago. Totally different M.O. _and_ it was random. These attacks were obviously planned in advance and well thought out."

"Yeah, I know," Frank murmured absently, unable to shake the feeling that it wasn't a mere coincidence that Blake Sansom had so much in common with the victims. He finally shook his head, ridding himself of the thought and turned to look at his father. "This is more than we had yesterday but it still doesn't tell us why these three were chosen. And why others were skipped."

Fenton looked over the list of names, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "We've been focusing on those three trying to figure out what they all have in common and run into a brick wall. Maybe if we look at the people who were skipped…"

"And figure out _why_ they were skipped, that might tell us why the others were chosen!" Frank said excitedly, quickly picking up on his father's train of thought.

"Exactly. Let's divide these names up and see if we can find out anything about them. Where they live. Are they married. What they do for a living. Anything at all. Between the three of us, it shouldn't take too long."

Fenton divvied up the names, and Frank and Joe retreated to their own offices to make their phone calls. Two hours later, the three sat around the conference table once again.

"I got a hold of two of mine," Frank announced. "One is an office administrator and the other is a mechanic."

"One of mine was a stay at home Mom and the other was dead." Fenton shared what he had found, before looking at Joe expectantly.

"The first guy is in prison for larceny and the other one flips burgers at McDonald's," Joe said.

"Another dead end," Frank complained. "They're all utterly ordinary."

"Maybe that's why they were skipped," Joe said, feeling the butterflies in his stomach take flight. "All of them were totally ordinary! That could be it!" he continued excitedly.

"What do you mean they were skipped because they were ordinary?" Frank asked, perplexed.

"None of the people who were attacked could even remotely be considered ordinary! Maybe they were all chosen because they're 'gifted' in some way," Joe explained, impatiently. "Each of their 'gifts' was taken away when they were attacked. The people who were skipped were pretty…average. Nothing very special about any of them."

Joe became increasingly uncomfortable as his father and brother stared at him for a few moments. "Yeah, okay, so it's a little bizarre, but can you come up with anything better?" Joe said defensively. Even he had to admit it sounded a little far-fetched, but right now they had nothing to go on.

"Actually, Joe, I was just thinking you're probably right," Fenton chuckled.

"Me too," Frank concurred. "I honestly can't see anything else that connects these three and excludes everyone else."

"That we know of so far," Fenton amended. "We've only contacted the people who _weren't_ attacked, who were born in between the three victims. There are still four other names on the list, all born after Jason Linges. Three of whom we know nothing about." He looked at Frank meaningfully.

"Yeah, well at least we can cross me off the list of possible targets. We know I'm safe since I don't have any special talents," Frank joked.

A sudden silence engulfed them as Joe and Fenton stared at Frank.

"What? Why are you staring at me?" he asked nervously.

"But you do have a gift," Joe said quietly.

"What gift? What are you talking about?" Frank responded, a little agitated. "I'm as normal as the next guy."

"No, you're not, Frank," Joe said, deadly serious. "Your IQ is genius level, higher than any 'normal' person; you got perfect scores on your SAT's; anyone who is even just barely acquainted with you knows you have above average intelligence. That's a gift. Heck, you only got three B's in your entire sixteen years of school."

"Two," Frank automatically corrected him, quickly blushing with embarrassment.

Joe grinned. "I stand corrected. Further proof you're not just a normal guy."

"Oh, please, Joe. No one is going to come after me because of-"

"He has a point." Fenton brought Frank's argument to a halt.

Frank looked at his father, incredulous. "Oh come on, Dad! You can't possibly think someone would want to do away with me because I'm smart. That's ridiculous!"

"Is it?" Fenton countered. "I'm sorry, Frank, but you have too many things in common with the other victims. And whether you like to admit it or not, you _are_ gifted when it comes to your intellect."

Frank looked from his father, to Joe and back again, dumbfounded.

"At least consider the possibility," Fenton requested. Frank was about to respond when there was a knock on the door and Laura popped her head in.

"I have an appointment but I made lunch for you. You've been locked up in here all morning. I want you to come out and eat it _now_," she said with mock-sternness.

"Thanks, Mom." Joe jumped up from his seat. "I'm starved." He gave her a peck on the cheek as he passed her on his way into the house.

"You're welcome," she called out after him, laughing. "I'll see you tonight, honey," she said to Fenton. "Bye, Frank." With a wave she disappeared out the door.

Joining Joe in the kitchen, Frank tuned the radio to a local all news channel. As the three sat down to eat, the lead story of the day was announced.

_"Bradford Aarons, who has brought home Gold Medals in the sharp shooting competition in the last three Olympic Games was attacked_ _last night. The gifted young man, who has never lost a sharp shooting competition in his entire career, was blinded and tragically will never see or compete again. The police have released very little information on the assault but an inside source close to the investigation tells us that Aarons was shot with a tranquilizer dart late last night as he approached his home. The retina and optic nerve in both eyes was severed with surgical precision. He was found on the steps of his home, early this morning. As with the two previous attacks, the incisions had been sutured and bandaged. _

_This is the fourth such attack in the past ten days leaving police completely baffled. _

_In other news…"_

Frank, Joe and Fenton sat in stunned silence, finally broken by Joe. "He was on the list," he said hoarsely. "He was born on July 14, 1977 in Lenox Hill Hospital. And he was gifted." Joe stared at his older brother for a moment. "You've just acquired a full time body guard," he announced forcefully. "Whenever you're not safely locked at home, I'm gonna be right behind you until you are."

Frank was about to protest, when Fenton seconded Joe's announcement. "I think that's wise." He looked pointedly at Frank. "Until we catch this guy, I do not want you anywhere alone. Especially at night. Don't go anywhere without Joe. And once you get home at night, you lock the doors and _stay_ there. Understood?"

Frank nodded his acquiescence, taking another bite of his sandwich. While he still didn't agree that he was a potential target, he felt an odd sense of relief, knowing his brother would be watching his back until this case was solved.


	15. Chapter 15

Great big THANK YOU'S to everyone who has reviewed. :-) Hope those who are reading are enjoying the story.

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 15**

It had been two days since the attack on Bradford Aarons that had lent a sense of urgency to the case, at least for Joe. They had checked the other names between Aarons, who had been born at 4:56 p.m. and Frank who had been the last baby born on July 14, 1977 at 11:58 p.m., with Joe grumbling all the while that Frank could have held on for a few more minutes if he really wanted to, and been born on July 15 instead.

Frank wasn't sure if he should be glad or not when they found out the three people who had been born prior to him were, as Joe had taken to referring them, "utterly ordinary." One was a supermarket cashier, the second was a bank teller and the third was an English teacher at an inner city high school. While Frank continued to downplay Joe's insistence that he could indeed be a target for the unknown assailant, Joe was certain he was right about his theory and stuck to his brother like glue.

Another frustrating day had come to an end, with the Hardys no closer to finding the assailant. Pulling into his driveway, Frank got out of his car and waited. Seconds later Joe pulled in behind him, yelling at his brother in frustration.

"Hey, wait 'til I get up there with you!"

"Joe, you're only a few yards away. No one is going to try anything. We don't have to be attached at the hip for you to look out for me," Frank replied. He loved his brother dearly, but Joe's constant hovering was starting to wear on his nerves.

"It can't hurt to be careful, you know," Joe retorted.

Frank looked at him, bemused. "And how would _you_ know?"

Joe mumbled a sarcastic reply under his breath as he followed Frank to the front door, practically walking on top of him. He was so close that when Frank stopped to unlock the door, Joe ran right into him.

"Geez, Joe, could you give me a little breathing room please?!" Frank cried out.

Stepping back, Joe simply smiled as Frank unlocked the front door and walked into his house, Joe right on his heels.

"Now as soon as I leave, lock the door and turn on the alarm," Joe admonished, as if he were speaking to a child. "And close the curtains and stay away from the windows."

"Yes, _Mom_."

"And do _not_ leave the house again. For anything," Joe continued, ignoring the jibe. "And don't answer the door unless you are absolutely _sure_ you know who it is."

Frank crossed his arms over his chest, studying his younger brother. "Am I this bad with you?"

"Nope," Joe replied, seriously.

"I didn't think so," Frank muttered.

"You're worse."

Frank stared at Joe for a moment then rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out, making their role reversal complete.

"I love you too, Frank. Now lock the door behind me." Joe grinned as he turned and left.

_"Lock the door. Turn on the alarm. Close the curtains. Stay away from the windows."_ Frank mimicked his brother as he moved about the house doing the very things Joe had asked him to. He then chuckled to himself for a moment and said a little prayer of thanks that he had a brother who cared so much, realizing Joe had been right – he was much worse whenever Joe was in danger.

As he heard Joe pull away, Frank headed into the kitchen stopping in his tracks with a groan. All the files he intended to work on that night were still on the front seat of his car; he had forgotten to bring them in with him. Turning, he walked back to the door and unlocked it. His fingers hovered over the keypad for the alarm and he hesitated a moment wondering if it was wise for him to leave the security of his home now that he was safely inside.

'_Don't be ridiculous. You're just going to the car and coming right back in. It's only a few yards away.'_

Still, a decidedly uneasy feeling came over him. Finally convincing himself it was just Joe's anxiety rubbing off on him, Frank entered the code to turn off the alarm and hurried out to his car. Unlocking it, he grabbed the folders, relocked the car and quickly made his way back to the porch.

'_See? Not a kidnapper in sight,'_ Frank thought smugly.

As he reached for the door handle, one of the files slipped from his grasp. Crouching down to retrieve it, he heard a thud directly over his head and looked up to see a quivering dart embedded in the door. Had he not bent over to pick up the file, it would be embedded in his neck! Diving behind the small bushes in front of the house for cover, he looked around frantically, seeing absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

'_Why didn't I listen to Joe?!'_

Slowly reaching out for the door handle, another dart came flying out of the darkness, narrowly missing his hand. At that moment, he heard a squeal of tires and a car horn began blaring loudly. Headlights suddenly swept erratically up his driveway as he heard a second car start up and peel out.

"Frank!! Are you alright?!" Joe's voice cut through the still night.

"I'm fine!" Frank yelled, popping up from behind the bush. Before he had a chance to react, Joe had thrown the car in reverse, backed out of the driveway, and taken off in pursuit of the dart thrower.

"JOE!!!" Frank yelled in frustration as his brother's car disappeared from sight. He did _not_ want his brother to catch up to the suspect and attempt to apprehend him alone. Joe wasn't completely recovered from the injuries he had sustained almost two months earlier and that alone was enough to cause Frank to begin worrying.


	16. Chapter 16

Thank you so much to all of you who left such awesome reviews! :-)

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 16**

Joe pressed down hard on the accelerator, speeding through the streets of Bayport. He never once looked at the speedometer, instead keeping his eyes glued to his quarry – a late model, dark colored sedan driven by the person who had just tried to kidnap his brother. Joe had to admit the other driver was good and had almost shaken Joe a few times but Joe had tenaciously stuck to his tail not wanting to think about the motor vehicle laws he had broken in the process. Instead, he kept repeating three numbers to himself.

"Eight, six, one…eight, six one…eight, six, one."

At one point Joe had gotten close enough to make out the first three numbers on the license plate, but the driver had put on a burst of speed before he could see the next three digits.

As the car ahead of him made a sharp left turn at the last second, Joe cursed the driver. The person was blithely turning left, right or making complete u-turns in total disregard for the traffic around them. Joe smiled when he saw the back end of the car fishtail wildly and slam into a parked car. As it continued on, Joe noticed it now had a broken right rear taillight. Just as he took the turn, Joe looked up at the street signs, making a mental note of the intersection hoping the fleeing driver might have left some kind of evidence when he hit the parked car.

Scanning the road, Joe saw a busy intersection up ahead. The light was red but the driver he was pursuing obviously had no intention of stopping. As they approached the stopped traffic at a high rate of speed, Joe sucked in his breath. He didn't want to get into an accident pursuing the elusive suspect, but he didn't want to lose them either. Prior to this evening, the thought that Frank might be the next victim was simply that – a thought. Tonight everything had changed. Whoever this was had made their move on Frank and Joe was not about to sit back and let them get away if he could help it. Suddenly, this case was personal.

Joe breathed a sigh of relief as the light turned to green. The traffic ahead slowly began to move, but apparently it still wasn't fast enough to satisfy the other driver as he swerved into the oncoming lanes of traffic to get around them. Horns blared and tires squealed as the other cars took drastic measures to avoid a major disaster. Joe gasped as he saw a silver SUV coming straight for him. The harsh glare of the headlights completely blinded him. Joe slammed on the brakes, spun the wheel hard to the right and began to pray as he waited for the inevitable impact.

oooOOOooo

Frank continued pacing his living room, growing more worried by the second. When Joe had taken off in pursuit of the dart thrower, Frank had stood in shock for a moment. By the time he had made the decision to follow Joe in his own car he realized it was too late. He'd never be able to find them now. He didn't even know which way they had turned when they got to the end of the street.

Frustrated, he had picked up the files he dropped and gone back into the house, calling both his father and the police. Hearing a car pull up in the driveway, Frank looked out the window and saw his father hurrying towards the front door. Frank had it open before Fenton even made it to the porch.

"Joe's not back yet?" Fenton asked, concerned.

"No," Frank replied, aggravated. "What was he thinking taking off by himself?!"

"Apparently, he wasn't."

"It would have taken ten seconds – _less_, even – for him to wait for me to get in the car!" Frank stopped and looked at his father, thinking of the night they'd caught the jewel thieves. "I can't believe I'm saying this but I hope Joe doesn't catch him. Joe isn't strong enough yet to hold his own in a fight."

"I know," Fenton replied quietly, looking out the window into the night. "The police are here."

Frank followed his father out the door and saw Detective Con Riley getting out of a patrol car. He approached the father and son, stopping on the porch next to them.

"What happened?" he asked simply.

Frank stepped aside so Con could see the two darts still sticking out of the door.

"No, I haven't touched them," Frank said before Con could pose the question.

"Do you know where they came from?"

"Out there somewhere." Frank waved his hand towards the street in front of his house, disgustedly.

When Con simply looked at him with raised eyebrows, Frank sighed.

"Sorry. I think the guy was sitting in a car across the street. There's always one or two cars parked in front of the Andersons house so I honestly didn't even notice it."

"Then what makes you think that's where it came from?" Fenton asked, the investigator in him coming out immediately. "And are you sure it was a man?"

"I know they came from that general direction. I bent over to pick up a file I had dropped and that's when the first dart hit. I dove behind the tree." He stopped and pointed to the little bush that may have saved his life. "When I reached for the door handle a second one hit the frame. And no, I'm not positive it was a man. Could just as easily have been a woman."

Con stopped him and took a moment to peer at both darts and crouch down behind the bush for a look at it, then stood up again. "Okay, go on."

"All of a sudden I heard tires squealing and a car horn. I think it was Joe because two seconds later he pulled into the driveway. At the same time, I heard more tires squealing and a car taking off down the street. It didn't turn around or anything, just took off, so it had to be parked right there in the street."

"So where's Joe?" Con looked around, suddenly noticing the absence of the youngest Hardy and then held up his hand, palm out. "Don't tell me. He took off after the guy…alone."

Frank crossed his arms over his chest and grunted in reply.

"And you haven't heard from him?" Con looked at Fenton.

"Not yet. But he hasn't been gone that long, right, Frank?" Fenton replied, trying to keep as positive an outlook as possible.

Frank glanced at his watch. "Ten, fifteen minutes maybe."

"Let me go call for an evidence collection team. I'll ask dispatch to put out an announcement just to keep an eye out for Joe," he added, noting the worried looks passing between Frank and Fenton.

"Thank you," Fenton smiled.

Con returned to his car for a few moments, completed his tasks and walked back to the porch.

"Well, for what it's worth, in the last few minutes there have been several reports called in about two cars in a high speed chase through downtown Bayport." He glanced down at the notes he had made. "A dark colored, late model sedan with tinted windows was being chased by a fairly new black Mustang convertible. No one has gotten a good look at the first driver, but the Mustang is reported to be driven by a young man with blonde hair." He looked up and arched an eyebrow. "Neither driver has been caught yet."

Fenton sighed at the description of Joe and his car and wondered if his younger son would ever learn how to control his impetuous nature. "I guess now, we wait."

Looking at Frank, Fenton realized that was the last thing he wanted to do, but had resigned himself to the fact that he had no choice. As the evidence collection team pulled up, Frank retreated into the house and angrily threw himself into a chair.

'_You better come back in one piece, Joe, because I'm going to __kill__ you!'_


	17. Chapter 17

Helen, Polaris, Calathiel, amblewat, penguincrazy, MissMe113, Cheryl, Iola, josie, No1butjoe, Alicia and pally for your comments. :-)

This was one of my favorite chapters to write. Especially the last half of it. Hope you enjoy. :-)

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 17**

Joe squeezed his eyes shut and clutched the steering wheel, waiting for the inevitable. He knew his luck had finally run out. The SUV had been on a collision course with the driver's side door of his car. He couldn't possibly escape this without serious injuries. Seconds ticked by as Joe wished it would just hurry up and end.

'_What's taking so long?'_ His arms were starting to hurt from gripping the steering wheel so hard.

Joe cracked one eye open and was blinded by light. Opening both eyes slightly, Joe warily turned to his left and found himself staring into the grill and headlights of the SUV. By some miracle, it had stopped just inches from his door without making contact. Exhaling with relief, Joe leaned his head back against the seat and glanced at the small silver angel dangling from the rearview mirror. "Thank you."

The day he brought his new car home, Vanessa had given him the small guardian angel and asked him to keep it in the car, insisting as long as the angel was watching over him, he'd always come home to her.

"Hey!" a voice called from outside. "You okay in there?"

Pressing a button, Joe rolled down the window. "Yeah, fine," he replied to the police officer, who appeared to be even younger than he was. _'Must be a new guy. I don't recognize him.'_

"Okay, don't move. I need to talk to you, but I want to make sure all the injured are being taken care of."

Joe nodded his agreement, content to sit and let his racing heart return to normal. It was almost ten minutes later when the SUV slowly backed away and Joe was able to get out of his car and survey the chaos.

Cars were strewn everywhere. On sidewalks, on curbs, blocking the intersection. It appeared to Joe that there weren't any major crashes and hoped no one had been seriously injured.

"Was anyone hurt?" Joe asked, leaning against his car, as the same young officer reappeared beside him.

"Only some minor cuts, bumps and bruises. A lot of the cars are pretty beat up though."

"Did you catch the guy?" Joe asked hopefully.

"Well, I caught one of them," he said dryly, arching an eyebrow at Joe.

"_ME_?!" Joe squeaked, incredulous.

"Yes, you." The officer crossed his arms over his chest.

"But…I was chasing a suspect!" Joe cried out.

"A suspect?!" the young man repeated, obviously amused. "What are you, part of the Dynamic Duo, or something?"

Sighing, Joe started to reach for his wallet.

Suddenly the officer became all business again, his hand resting on the butt of his gun. "Hold it!"

"I'm just getting some I.D.," Joe told him calmly.

"Just do it very slowly," the officer warned.

As instructed, Joe slowly pulled his wallet out of a back pocket and handed it over. Keeping a hand on his gun, the officer flipped it open and inspected the contents.

"Joseph Hardy." He looked up and peaked an eyebrow, "Are you…"

Joe sighed inwardly, knowing the question without it even being verbalized. "His son."

"Following in his footsteps?" the cop asked amiably, handing the wallet back to Joe.

"Uh-huh. My brother and I joined his practice when we graduated from college and got our PI licenses."

The officer nodded with a smile. "I've heard about you guys. What I wouldn't give to work on a case with Fenton Hardy." He sounded almost awestruck.

"Stay on the force long enough and you probably will eventually." Joe smiled. He knew how the young man felt. Even after all these years, Joe was still sometimes a little awed himself watching his father work.

"So who were you chasing? Oh, I'm Ken Hitchcock by the way." He extended his hand.

Joe spent the next few minutes explaining the case the Hardys were working on and how he had ended up in a high-speed chase through the city streets of Bayport.

"Well, I understand your wanting to catch the guy, but the higher-ups don't even want _us_ chasing suspects at high rates of speed, especially through crowded city streets. _You_ definitely shouldn't be doing it," Hitchcock warned Joe.

"I know, but the…" Joe bit back what he really wanted to say, "…the _guy_ went after my brother!" Suddenly realizing he had left Frank all alone, Joe straightened up and reached for the door handle. "Do you need anything else from me? Can I go now?" he asked anxiously.

"Uh, I'm afraid there is one more thing. But you can wait in the car." A few moments later, Ken leaned down through the open window. "Here you go," he said pleasantly, handing Joe a piece of paper.

Joe looked at the paper and scowled. "Gee, thanks," he muttered, tossing the paper on the seat next to him. Now thoroughly disgusted, Joe started his car and headed back to Frank's house.

oooOOOooo

Pulling into Frank's driveway, Joe saw his father's car. "Just peachy," he grumbled, knowing he'd now have to face the wrath of not only Frank but his father as well, for taking off by himself. Ever since coming home from Chicago, his family seemed very reluctant to even let him out of their sight.

As if he were headed for the gallows, Joe got out of his car and very slowly walked across the lawn, up the porch steps and quietly entered his brother's house. Peeking around the open doorway into the living room, Joe saw Fenton and Frank look up, staring at him with matching expressions of worry that quickly turned to relief.

"Are you all right?!" Fenton cried out, jumping up from the couch and rushing to Joe's side, inspecting his son for any new injuries.

"I'm fine, Dad," Joe assured him.

"You're sure?" Frank asked, striding across the room and studying his younger brother carefully

"Yup. Not a scratch."

"Positive?" Frank pressed. "You're not hurt?"

"Nope," Joe smiled.

"Good." Frank exhaled loudly... and then exploded. "_**NOW WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!?!"**_

Joe rapidly took several steps backwards, wanting to put some distance between himself and his enraged brother, all thoughts of yelling at Frank for leaving the security of his house suddenly gone.

"I was _thinking_ I wanted to catch the guy who used you for target practice!" Joe snapped defensively, moving sideways so he was now standing behind Fenton, peering over his father's shoulder.

Fenton stood silently, suddenly reminded of his sons' childhood. Even as a child Frank had always taken the time to care for all his possessions be it toys, clothes, video games... Joe on the other hand, had always lived life in the moment, not worrying about possessions, leaving broken and lost toys in his wake. Many times Joe would sneak Frank's toys to play with, ones that had been specifically off limits to him, only to end up breaking them. When his older brother found out, Joe would always hide behind his father as Frank reprimanded him, insisting Joe replace the now useless item with money from his piggy bank.

'_Some things never change,'_ Fenton thought wryly, glancing back at Joe hiding behind him.

"Are you crazy?! Why couldn't you wait five seconds for me to get in the car with you?" Frank raged on, the conflicting emotions of worry for his brother and relief that he was safe colliding head on inside him. He gave no thought to the fact that if he hadn't gone back out to his car after Joe had initially left, all this probably would have been avoided.

"I didn't think…"

"You never think!" Frank cried out, instantly regretting what he'd said. The room suddenly became silent.

Joe stared at Frank, momentarily hurt by the words, until he saw the expression in his brother's eyes – fear and terror.

'_I scared him. He thought he was losing me – again. He thought I might not come back alive.'_

"Joe, I'm sorry," Frank said hoarsely, unable to believe what he'd said.

All their lives, Frank had been pegged as the 'smart' one and Joe as the 'dumb jock', something he knew hurt Joe deeply although Joe would never admit it. Frank lost count of the number of times he had defended his brother's intelligence, sometimes physically, throughout their junior high and high school years.

"No, you're right," Joe said sincerely, understanding how frightened his brother had been. "I'm the one who needs to apologize. I _didn't_ think. I saw the guy getting away and I was afraid if I didn't catch him, he'd be free to come after you again. I'm sorry I scared you. I should've waited for you."

Frank stared at his brother, a hint of anguish still visible in his eyes. "Just…wait for me the next time, okay?" Frank said quietly. "And…you know I didn't mean that."

"I know. And I will wait next time. Promise," Joe smiled apologetically.

"So why did you come back to begin with?" Frank asked, glad that Joe had indeed returned to his house after initially leaving for home.

"Callie works near one of the florists Vanessa is thinking about using for the wedding. She picked up some brochures the other day and Van asked me to bring them home. I got all the way to the end of the street before I realized I had forgotten them, so I came back to get them." He walked over to the end table and picked up an envelope with his name on it. Opening it, he looked inside and saw the brochures. Tossing the envelope back on the table, Joe turned to his father, realizing he must have been just as frantic as Frank had been. "I'm sorry I worried you, too, Dad."

Fenton squeezed his shoulder. "I'm just grateful you're all right."

Seeing how relieved his father was that he hadn't been hurt, Joe decided to take advantage of the opportunity. He pulled the folded piece of paper Officer Hitchcock had given him from his pocket and solemnly offered it to Fenton. "Business expense."

Eyeing his youngest son warily, Fenton took the proffered paper and unfolded it. After reading it, he gazed back at Joe and arched an eyebrow. "It's a speeding ticket."

"Right," Joe confirmed. "I got it while I was chasing the guy who tried to kidnap Frank. So it's a business expense," he finished matter-of-factly, trying to ignore his older brother's snickering.

Fenton returned his gaze to the ticket, trying to hide an amused smile. Refolding the paper, he handed it back to Joe. "Nice try. But I don't think so."

No longer able to contain himself, Frank burst out laughing at the crestfallen look on Joe's face, earning him an icy glare from his brother.

"But, Dad, I got it in the line of duty," Joe said earnestly.

Fenton crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head, immune to Joe's charm. "Nope."

Joe looked at the ticket in disgust. "Will Hardy and Sons Investigations at least kick in for part of my new higher insurance premium?" he tried half-heartedly.

"Uh-uh," Fenton answered, now thoroughly amused.

Joe thought a moment then looked at his father, flashing his most potent smile. "So how about a raise?"

Fenton stared at him, momentarily rendered speechless, before joining Frank who was now hooting with laughter.

"I don't see what's so funny." Joe slid into a chair with disgust, when he was struck with a new idea. "Dad's right," he said looking at Frank with superiority. "The company shouldn't have to foot the bill. _YOU_ should pay the ticket."

"Me?!" Frank sputtered. "Why should _I_ pay for _your_ speeding ticket?"

"If you had stayed in the house like you were supposed to, I never would have had to chase the guy and I never would have gotten a ticket," Joe explained patiently.

"I think he's got a point." Fenton said, unable to resist fanning the flames.

Frank looked at him in shock. "Dad!"

"Well, it makes sense," Fenton said seriously, hiding his amusement. "He's right. You weren't supposed to be outside alone. You agreed to that. _You_ chose to go back out to your car, making yourself a target. Joe had no choice but to try and catch the person who took pot shots at you."

"_What_?!" Frank exclaimed. "You can't be serious!!"

Fenton laughed out loud. "I'm not. The agency will pay for half your ticket," he said to Joe, who was not at all mollified.

"Oh, all right," Frank sighed in exasperation. "I'll pay for _half_ of the other half." When Joe simply grunted in response, Frank tried to cheer him up. "At least try and look on the bright side, Joe. You came back with yourself and your car in one piece." Frank grinned at his brother. "Sounds like you both could have been totaled."

"Yeah, you're right." Joe replied. He then looked at Frank and Fenton, smiling like the cat that ate the canary. "I came back with something else, too."

"We're all ears," Fenton said.

"A description of the car and a partial plate. _And_ it hit a couple of parked cars at the corner of Main and Grethem Streets downtown. Maybe there's some evidence there we can use, too," he told them his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Fenton was already dialing the phone before Joe had even finished speaking. "Con? Fenton. Joe has a partial plate and a description of the car he was chasing. He also said it hit some parked cars at the corner of Main Street and Grethem. Hold on, I'll put him on." Fenton handed the phone to Joe who methodically began telling Con Riley everything he could remember.

"This could be just the break we need," Frank said to Fenton quietly so as not to disturb Joe.

"I certainly hope so. Especially now that we know you _are_ a target," Fenton said solemnly.

The two fell silent listening to Joe describe the chase, the car, the minor accident it was involved in and concluding with the driver causing chaos in order to escape capture.

As Fenton listened, he glanced at Frank. Although Frank normally kept his feelings hidden quite well, Fenton could now see the apprehension in his eyes as the reality of the situation hit him. It was no longer just a _possibility_ that he could become a victim – it was now a _given_ that he was next on the list.


	18. Chapter 18

Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who reviewed!! Life is crazy but you guys keep me happy and sane! :-) And I'm so glad you all liked the humor in that last chapter. ;-)

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 18**

_Joe stood eyeing the jewelry thief, neither one moving. He could hear Frank fighting to subdue the other suspect. Joe took a tentative step forward, and then quickly took two steps back, uncertain if he could apprehend the man on his own. Seconds slipped by as Joe wondered whether or not he should wait for help. A look of surprise passed over the man's face when Joe never made a move towards him. It was quickly replaced with one of amusement. _

_"What's the matter, little boy?" he laughed derisively. "Scared?"_

_Joe stood rooted to the spot, watching as the man picked up a crowbar that was leaning against the wall. He raised it menacingly at Joe, who flinched and backpedaled a little more._

_"Ah, you're not even worth the effort," the man grunted._

_Turning the man advanced on Frank, who was still grappling with the second thief._

'_NO!' Joe thought, horrified as the man brought the crowbar crashing down on Frank's head, immediately raising it for a second blow. _

'_Move!' Joe commanded himself. 'Do something!' Instead, Joe stood and watched in terror._

Abruptly, Joe awoke from the nightmare, his heart racing. Staring up into the darkness he could still see the images of Frank, the crowbar and the two thieves as the taunts and laughter echoed in his ears. It was the third time in less than a week Joe had that dream, or some variation of it. It always began with he and Frank confronting the thieves and while Frank quickly moved in on his suspect, Joe always hesitated – uncertain, unsure, afraid. And it always ended with Frank paying for Joe's indecision.

The first time he'd had the dream, Joe simply dismissed it as a product of his wild imagination. The second time had left him a little unsettled. Tonight all he could hear were the taunts of the man he was too afraid to apprehend. His mocking words from each of the previous dreams rang in Joe's ears and he wondered if they might indeed be true.

_"Afraid of a good fight, pretty boy?"_

_"No courage. Just like the cowardly lion."_

_"What's the matter little boy? Scared?"_

'_Am I?'_ Joe thought, as the beginnings of self-doubt tried to take root. He was certain the recurring dream was trying to tell him something, and questioned if it might be a confirmation of the threat Keith Rashman had made – the one that had been haunting him every, single day.

_"I __will__ break you, Hardy. If it's the last thing I do."_

Rolling on to his side, Joe gazed at the clock on the nightstand, entranced by the red glow of the numbers.

'_Maybe he did,'_ Joe thought, the self-doubt feeding on this possibility. The line that clearly separated his dreams from reality was suddenly blurred. For the first time in his life, Joe began to doubt himself and question his abilities as an investigator.

oooOOOooo

Vanessa stood at the counter in the kitchen, absently shoving things into her bag, her attention focused on Joe. Sitting on the couch, he was ostensibly watching the morning news while finishing his coffee, although he appeared to be staring out into space. He had woken up abruptly during the night, due to a nightmare she presumed.

'_Third time this week,'_ she thought, her forehead creased with concern.

Although he hadn't shared with her what he had dreamt about, she was sure it wasn't about Keith Rashman. It was painfully obvious when he dreamt about that. Thankfully, those dreams had started to dwindle to maybe once a week or so. Still, whatever had awakened him during the night had clearly stayed with him, as Joe had been quiet and withdrawn since he got up. Vanessa had attempted to engage him in conversation and gotten only one word replies. Picking up her bag, she walked out to the living room and sat on the couch next to Joe.

"I'm going to head off to work now," she said, hoping for more than a nod in reply.

"Ok, Babe. Have a good day." Joe managed a little smile and leaned in to kiss her goodbye.

"Thanks. You too." Vanessa started to get up, and then hesitating, changed her mind. "Joe?"

"Yeah?" He turned to look at her again.

"Would it help to talk about it?" she offered. "Whatever's bothering you?"

Joe smiled at her as he considered the offer_. 'Yeah, right. Tell her you've suddenly morphed into the Cowardly Lion.'_

"It's just some work stuff," he replied, vaguely.

"Okay." She nodded, not really believing him. Standing up she walked to the door, but turned back to Joe before opening it. "Then maybe you could talk to Frank about it." She had a feeling that whatever was bothering Joe would continue to grow if he didn't resolve it soon.

He looked at her thoughtfully. "Maybe."

"See you tonight."

"Bye."

'_Talk to Frank. Sounds good in theory,'_ Joe contemplated. _'But how do I tell him his partner suddenly seems to have lost the courage to do something as routine as snapping handcuffs on a suspect?'_

While he knew Frank would never ridicule him or brush his fears aside, Joe wasn't sure he had what little courage it would take just to admit these doubts and fears to his brother. And if he did, how would Frank feel wondering if Joe would come through in the clutch, or freeze – leaving Frank vulnerable.

While a voice in his head told him to keep these new doubts to himself, another part of him wanted to talk to his brother. Somehow Frank could always make sense of things, putting it all in perspective and easing Joe's worries; helping him find a solution to whatever problem he was having – big or small. Joe had lost count of the number of times in his life he had turned to Frank for help and advice in sorting out his thoughts, fears and confusing tangle of emotions.

Pushing himself up off the couch, Joe walked to the kitchen and put his coffee cup in the sink. Grabbing his keys off the counter, Joe left the apartment thinking about the one thing that would be required for him to confide in his brother – trust.

'_Maybe it's time…'_

oooOOOooo

Joe arrived at the office to find Fenton on the phone and Frank sitting in a chair in front of his father's desk, listening intently. Hearing Joe come in, Frank jumped up and grabbed Joe's arm, moving to the other side of the room so they could talk without disturbing Fenton.

"What? What's going on?" Joe asked slightly alarmed at his brother's reaction.

"You hit the jackpot, little brother!" Frank said excitedly. "Con ran the partial plate you gave him, hoping there wouldn't be too many cars matching the description so it would be a little easier to find the right one."

"And how many were there?" Joe asked, getting caught up in Frank's enthusiasm. "Eight? Ten? Must be a lot in the state of New York."

"One!" Frank exclaimed.

"One? That can't be right." Joe was stunned at their luck.

"It gets better. Dad called Sam Peterson with the name and address of the person who it's registered to. Sam sent a couple of officers out to the house just to see if there was any damage to the car…"

"The broken tail light!"

"Right! And this car had a broken right rear tail light! Sam went before a judge this morning to request a search warrant. He should have it by the time we get there."

Joe stared at his brother for a moment, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. "Who's the car registered to?" Joe finally found his voice.

"This is where it gets really weird. It's registered to George Sansom," Frank replied, obviously shocked at that turn of events himself.

"George Sansom?" Joe repeated. "Is he related to…"

"Blake Sansom's father," Frank confirmed.

"Wow. That can't be just a coincidence. I mean Blake's name was on that list. He was the first baby born on July 14, 1977." Joe continued in a slightly more confused tone. "But what does it mean? Did this guy have some kind of vendetta against gifted people who were born on the same day as his son? But why? They never did anything to him."

"I don't know, but I agree it's definitely not just a coincidence. Hopefully, when his car is searched there will be enough evidence to bring him in for questioning and we can find out." Frank stopped when he saw Fenton hang up the phone.

"Okay, let's go," Fenton said, hurrying out from behind his desk. "It'll take us an hour to get there and Sam should have the search warrant by then."

Leading Frank and Joe out the door, they piled into Fenton's car and were soon on their way to New York City. Sitting in the back, Joe glanced at his brother in the front passenger seat hoping their luck held out a little longer and George Sansom really was the man they were looking for. If not, it meant Frank still had a target on his back.


	19. Chapter 19

Thanks so much for the reviews! I LOVE how not one of you thinks this case is gonna be solved so easily. LOL! Gee, don't you think it could be simple for them just once? ;-)

Thanks to all who are reading. :-)

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 19**

Joe stood next to Frank and his father in the driveway of the small, tidy red brick house watching as Sam Peterson and his officers spoke to a man who had responded to their knock on the door – a man Joe assumed to be George Sansom. Although at the moment, Joe wouldn't bet his life on that assumption. The hour long ride from Bayport afforded ample time for Joe's temporary excitement over the developments in the case to wane. The doubts he'd been feeling early that morning had returned stronger than ever.

Leaning against his car, Fenton eyed the navy blue sedan with the broken taillight and smiled inwardly. Joe was standing to his right, closest to the car, and Fenton knew any second now Joe would try and sneak a little closer to the car, itching to get a better look. Since he, Frank and Joe were there as "observers", invited by Sam, he knew he'd have to remind Joe to stay put and be content simply to watch as the proceedings unfolded.

Several minutes passed with Joe remaining still, not even giving the car a second glance. Taking a quick peek at his son, Fenton thought Joe looked…troubled. Recalling how quiet and subdued Joe had been during the ride, he began to worry about his youngest son. Just as he was about to pull Joe aside and attempt to find out what was bothering him, he saw the man who had answered the door was now hurrying down the front steps with Sam and the two officers right behind him. The man stopped abruptly, his mouth hanging open when he saw the damage to his car.

"What the…how the hell did that happen?!" he cried out.

'_Either he deserves an Academy Award, or he really __**wasn't**__ driving that car last night,'_ Joe thought, noting the look on his face and what sounded like genuine surprise in the man's voice. Glancing around, he realized he was the only one who seemed to notice. _'Or maybe I just imagined it.'_

"Could you unlock the car for us, Mr. Sansom?" Sam requested.

Still gazing open-mouthed at his car, Sansom extended his arm forward, using the remote control to unlock the doors. Immediately, the two officers descended on either side of the car and began a methodical search.

"Does he look familiar to you at all?" Fenton asked Joe quietly.

Joe shook his head in frustration. "I never got a look at the driver. It was dark and the windows are tinted. But I know that's the car."

"Sir?" One of the officers motioned for Sam to join him.

Joe watched as the officer said something to Sam and pointed towards the floor in front of the passenger seat. Crouching down, Sam was apparently examining whatever the officer had found. Standing up, he walked back to Sansom.

"Mr. Sansom, where were you last night?" he asked, keeping his voice completely neutral.

"Right here. At home," Sansom replied without hesitation.

"Was anyone else with you?"

"No," he said, the tone of his voice turning bitter. "My wife and I are divorcing and my son will spend the rest of his life in a nursing home for the severely disabled. But you already knew that," he spat out. "My family has been destroyed thanks to your stellar police department. I'm alone now. My wife is still staying here until the renovations on her house are complete, but we rarely see each other. So no, there was no one else with me."

Joe shivered at the hatred in the man's voice, noticing Sam never even flinched.

"Did anyone call? Stop by to visit? Anyone who can verify your whereabouts?" Sam continued.

"Why do I need someone to vouch for me? Are you saying I need an alibi for something?" the man challenged.

"Mr. Sansom, there was an attempted kidnapping in Bayport last night. The suspect was chased through downtown Bayport, hitting a parked car at one point and sustaining a broken right rear taillight, before fleeing, leaving a dozen minor traffic accidents and minor chaos behind. We're almost certain this is the car that was used in the attack and subsequently fled the scene." Sam was watching closely for the man's reaction.

"And you think it was me?!" Sansom exclaimed, the expression on his face changing from disbelief to anger.

"The assailant shot two tranquilizer darts at the victim. Identical to the one my officer just found under the front seat of your car."

"Wha…what?!" Sansom stared, the color draining from his face.

"Mr. Sansom, if there is anyone who can verify that you were home all night last night, now would be a good time to call them."

"I…I fell asleep on the couch! Watching T.V. I never left the house!"

Sam took a step back and nodded at one of the officers who immediately came forward and addressed George Sansom.

"Please turn around and put your hands behind your back."

"But…I didn't…."

"Now, sir," the officer said firmly.

As George Sansom was being handcuffed and read his rights, Joe saw a woman walking towards the house. Noticing the police car for the first time, she stopped and stared. Now watching her closely, Joe could swear he saw a look of utter fear cross over her face akin to that of a cornered animal. When she saw the handcuffs being snapped into place, Joe swore she exhaled with relief. She then looked at Frank, and her eyes seemed to widen in shock for a few seconds almost as if she recognized him, but the look quickly disappeared. Wordlessly he nudged Frank, who had been watching the arrest intently, unaware of the woman's arrival.

"Did you see that?" Joe asked under his breath.

"See what? I was watching Sansom," Frank replied.

Joe didn't have a chance to reply, as the woman rushed up the driveway to the man's side.

"George?! My, God, what's going on?!" she cried out.

"As usual, Gloria, the police have screwed up _again_!" the man replied with unconcealed hatred. "They said my car was used in an attempted kidnapping in Lakeport last night…"

"Bayport," Sam corrected.

"_Bayport_," Sansom sneered. "…and since I was home alone with no alibi, they've decided _I'm_ the kidnapper!"

The woman looked from Sansom to Sam and back again.

"Mrs. Sansom, I'm sorry we have to meet again under these circumstances," Sam greeted the woman.

'_The wife,'_ Joe deduced, watching her intently. _'Soon to be ex-wife,'_ he corrected himself recalling Sansom's comment about a divorce.

"I…I don't understand, Chief Peterson."

As Sam began to explain what was going on, Joe tugged on Frank's elbow pulling him out of earshot of the rest of the group.

"What? Did you see something? Remember something else?" Frank asked.

"No, but that woman…when she first saw what was going on…before she thought anyone had noticed her…she got this look on her face. Just for a second, but it was there," Joe said, still watching her.

"What look?"

"Like she was scared…terrified."

"Uh, Joe, not everyone is used to the police showing up in their driveway unannounced."

"No, I mean scared like she had been…trapped." Joe turned and looked at his brother. "_Caught_. And when she saw you, it was almost like…like she recognized you, like she _knew_ you."

"What are you saying?" Frank asked warily.

'_What __**am**__ I trying to say?'_ Joe sighed, more unsure of himself than ever. "I…I'm not sure. I just thought her initial reaction was…I guess I don't know what I thought. Never mind." Joe walked back to stand next to his father, leaving Frank puzzled and a little concerned.

oooOOOooo

Several hours later George Sansom had been arrested and charged with attempted assault, attempted kidnapping, fleeing the scene of an accident and many other violations of the motor vehicle code. His car had been impounded and was now being searched for any evidence that could tie him to the assaults of Kent Graham, Leona Soris, Jason Linges or Bradford Aarons. Search warrants for both his home and his locker at work had been requested and issued.

Unable to afford an attorney, he had been assigned a public defender. He had initially agreed to be questioned with the lawyer present, insistent that he was innocent and had nothing to hide. But when it had come out that he had no alibis for the nights of the assaults in question, was a registered nurse working at one of the city's largest hospitals and had served as a front line medic in the Gulf War, the attorney brought the questions to an abrupt halt.

Standing with Sam Peterson and the Hardys in the corridor of the police station, Gloria Sansom shook her head, still in shock.

"I just can't believe it," she said softly. "I know he's bitter about what happened to Blake and the outcome of the trial, but why take it out on those innocent people? It makes no sense." She looked up at Frank, concern in her eyes. "And he tried to kidnap you last night?"

"I'm afraid that's what the evidence says," Sam replied. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Sansom." He felt genuine remorse at having to arrest the man. His department _had_ been the cause of their son's assailant going free. Their son's ordeal and the subsequent trial had obviously destroyed their marriage and apparently pushed George Sansom over the edge, despite his claims to the contrary. Sam stared at Gloria Sansom, admiring her ability to handle it all with such grace.

"It's not your fault," she reassured him, still looking at Frank closely. Seeing him start to fidget under her gaze, she apologized profusely. "I'm so sorry, it's just that you remind me so much of my son." She smiled sadly.

'_What?'_ Joe thought, his forehead wrinkled in puzzlement, as he recalled a picture of Blake Sansom he had seen on the news. _'Her son had light brown hair, blue eyes and wore glasses. She doesn't even __know__ Frank. How could he remind her of her son?'_ Looking at his father and brother, he saw that neither one seemed to find the remark unusual.

"I read a good deal about him," Frank replied gently, leaving out the fact that he had learned about her son while following the trial. "Thank you for the compliment."

"I know this is a rather strange request but… could I buy you a cup of coffee? Maybe talk for a few minutes?" she asked shyly. "Blake and I used to talk over coffee all the time."

Frank smiled at the woman, seeming not at all bothered by the fact that she obviously wanted him to stand in for her son, if only for a few minutes. After what she had been through, if it would bring her a few minutes of peace, Joe knew he would be more than willing to go along.

Frank offered her his arm. "I'd love to." Gratefully, she slipped her hand through his arm.

Joe stared at the two of them, already talking animatedly as they walked away. An unexplained chill ran down his spine, and the butterflies in his stomach came alive insisting something was very wrong. Now certain his instincts could no longer be trusted, he ignored the signals his body was sending and turned away, once again awash in self-doubt.

oooOOOooo

By the time they had returned to Bayport late that afternoon, Joe felt as if he didn't know which way was up. With each new revelation that supposedly cemented the case against George Sansom, Joe had questions and reservations but no longer had the confidence to voice them. Sam had asked Gloria where she was the previous evening and on the nights of the four assaults. He had been trying to see if she could corroborate George Sansom's claim that he was home, sleeping on the couch, thereby verifying his alibi. When she had replied that she had been alone, doing some work on the house she was planning to move into after the divorce, it occurred to Joe that meant _she_ also had no alibi for any of the nights in question.

Frank's short visit with Gloria Sansom over a cup of coffee had turned into several hours, allowing him to learn quite a bit about her which he shared with Joe and Fenton on the drive home.

The house she was working on had been left to her by her parents. She in turn had left it to her son who had been living in it until the night he'd been attacked. Living and working in the city, she did not own a car as she could get almost anywhere via public transportation. However she _did_ have a set of keys to her soon to be ex-husband's car and his permission to borrow it should the need ever arise. Joe realized that gave her just as much access to the car as George Sansom had. When no one else came to the same conclusion, Joe took it as further proof he could no longer trust his own instincts.

During the ride home, Frank related more and more of his discussion with Gloria. Like her husband, she too was a registered nurse and had worked in both the Emergency Room and the operating room, leading Joe to the conclusion she was probably capable of performing a surgical procedure on her own, crude though it may be. Joe found himself wondering why she had latched onto Frank so quickly and appeared to know so much about him, never having met him before. And the fact that she said Frank reminded her of her son when she knew absolutely nothing about him kept nagging at Joe. He was about to mention these observations when the voice of self-doubt told him to wait. If he were right, either Frank or his father would come to the same conclusions pretty quickly. When neither of them did, Joe retreated even further into himself, feeling completely and utterly…broken.

After arriving back in Bayport, Frank, Joe and Fenton briefly convened in the office to review the day's events and plan for tomorrow. Shortly thereafter, Fenton had sent his sons home, congratulating them on a job well done.

Joe was now sitting in his car in his parents' driveway, clutching the steering wheel tightly with both hands, staring at some unseen spot on the dashboard. Frank was standing next to the car, talking to Joe through the open window. He had been trying to engage Joe in conversation to no avail, ending in an awkward silence.

At that moment, Joe wanted more than anything to pour out his heart to Frank, tell him about all the doubts, the confusion, the indecision and sudden lack of confidence. Joe wanted Frank to come up with logical reasons for everything he was feeling and then make it all go away. But he hesitated, once again unsure. Six months ago, Joe wouldn't have thought twice about turning to his older brother for help. Six months ago, Joe still trusted Frank without question. Six months ago was a different lifetime.

…

"Okay, then," Frank said, not wanting to leave, yet unable to find a reason to stay. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Just as Frank was about to turn away, something stopped him. Joe had been acting strangely all day. Usually bubbling over with excitement when they solved a case, today he seemed almost…depressed. He hadn't ventured forth with an opinion or observation unless pressed for it, and even then, he did so reluctantly, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of himself. Frank got the distinct impression his brother was facing some internal crisis and was trying to solve it on his own. Something Frank could clearly see he was in no state of mind to be doing.

'_Come on, Joe, tell me what's wrong. You were fine yesterday. I'm right here. Let me help.'_

…

Joe was fully aware Frank hadn't moved one inch even though he had already said goodbye. Was it fate? Some kind of divine intervention from above? Or just Frank's big brother radar screaming at him that to leave Joe alone now would be a costly mistake. Joe's reaction to the day's events had left him wondering if he even had the confidence to decide something as simple as what to have for dinner, let alone whether he could, or should, confide in his brother.

Every instinct Joe had was telling him that they had arrested the wrong person. Despite the overwhelming evidence, he believed George Sansom was innocent. The man's complete and total shock when he saw the damage to his car had been genuine, at least to Joe. But no one else seemed to see it, so Joe had no choice but to believe it was all in his mind.

He was also haunted by Sansom's absolute insistence he was innocent. His story had never varied, it was exactly the same no matter who asked the questions or how they were phrased. Something his father had taught him guilty people who were lying usually couldn't pull off. But by day's end, it was painfully clear to Joe he was the _only_ one who believed they had the wrong person.

But his only other suspect was Gloria Sansom and he had no proof to back up his suspicions. Just the look on her face when she had first arrived on the scene. _'She looked trapped…as if she had been caught. And why did she seem to recognize Frank?' _

Yet, no one else had seen it but him and he now wondered if he had imagined it. Just as George Sansom did, she had no one who could verify her whereabouts, yet that didn't seem to bother anyone but Joe. Neither did the fact that she had access to the car. Why was he the only one who saw her as a suspect?

'_Because you're no longer capable of looking at the simplest facts and coming up with the right answer,'_ a voice in his head answered derisively_. 'Face it, you __are__ broken.'_

'_What if I am? Today proves I can't add up the facts and come up with the right suspect. What if I freeze in a life or death situation? Make the wrong choice? Would Frank end up paying for it with his life?'_

In the past, Joe would have turned to his brother immediately, without hesitation, for help in sorting through the confusion. But that was when he trusted Frank – implicitly. If he decided to confide his fears in his older brother now, would Frank listen and help him find his way out? Or would he listen and simply decide Joe was a liability whose self-doubt and lack of confidence could put them both in danger? Would Frank look at Joe as a brother who was lost and in desperate need of help, or a partner he could no longer count on? Even though his gaze had never wavered from the spot on the dashboard, Joe could feel Frank standing just outside the car door, looking down on him.

…

Sensing Joe was too conflicted to think clearly, Frank silently pleaded with his brother to just open up to him and give Frank a chance to prove he could be trusted again. Crouching down next to the car, Frank rested his chin on the doorframe so he was now looking up to Joe, rather than towering over him.

…

Out of the corner of his eye, Joe could see Frank kneel down next to the car, a gesture that Joe found comforting although he didn't know why. Unbeknownst to Joe, it was that one gesture that proved to be the turning point for him.

'_I promised to give him a chance to earn my trust back and he promised not to let me down.'_

Taking what felt like the biggest leap of faith in his life, Joe finally turned to look at his brother.

"Do you think we could talk for a while?"


	20. Chapter 20

Can't give enough thanks to Calathiel, penguincrazy, Liz, No1butjoe, Miss Fenway, MissMe113, Mischieftheblackwolf, franknjoe, AZ Writer, Helen, josie and Alicia for your support and reviews. You guys are awesome. :-)

Coming up – one brotherly heart to heart. Hope you enjoy it.

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 20**

Frank continued kneeling by Joe's car a moment longer, not quite sure if Joe had really reached out to him or if he just wanted it so badly he had imagined the whole thing.

"Frank?" Joe said tentatively. "If you don't have time, I understand."

Frank was snapped out of his daze by the disappointment that had suddenly appeared in Joe's eyes. "I always have time for you." Standing up, he opened the car door. "Come on, let's go. I know just the place." He grinned, holding the door open while Joe got out of the car.

With a grateful smile, Joe followed his brother down the driveway. Falling in step next to him as they headed down the street, Joe realized immediately where Frank was headed.

"Just don't try to hold my hand," Frank cracked, bringing on a flood of memories from their childhood. When they were young, Laura would always remind Frank he was the older brother and, as such, it was his responsibility to watch out for Joe whenever the two boys went out to play. Not wanting to get "lost" Joe would inevitably clutch his brother's hand tightly until they had safely reached their destination.

Frank's joking and the familiar, comforting routine had already started to soothe Joe's raw nerves and he wondered why he hadn't done this sooner.

The brothers walked towards the park a few blocks away in companionable silence, as Frank smiled to himself. He was in his element now, his comfort zone. As children, he and Joe had spent most of their days at the park playing on the swings, the jungle gym and the monkey bars with their friends.

Long after they had outgrown the children's playground, they often found themselves returning to the place that held such happy memories for them, most often when Joe would come to his older brother for advice or guidance. After arriving at the playground, they would always climb to the top of the jungle gym and sit side by side, where the innocence of their past seemed to surround them. It had taken only a few visits for Frank to notice the calming effect this place had on Joe. From then on, whenever Joe needed to "talk", Frank would bring him here.

Watching his brother as they walked, Frank paid particular attention to his body language, knowing the meaning behind all of Joe's quirks and nervous habits. He knew when they got to the top of the jungle gym it would take a while before Joe was ready to talk about whatever was bothering him. They would sit in silence for a few moments, then Joe would dance around the subject, talking in circles, before finally telling Frank what the problem was. Frank knew that would annoy most people to no end, but he loved it. Nothing could come close to the feeling he got drawing his brother out, getting Joe to talk about whatever was upsetting him and helping him find the answers he needed.

As they climbed up the criss-crossing structure, settling themselves at the top, Frank had no doubt he could once again guide his brother through this latest "crisis" – whether it be real or imagined. He had a perfect track record here at the park, never once letting Joe down, and he had no intention of failing today.

…

Joe shifted position, having no idea how or where to begin. This sudden onslaught of self-doubt and lack of confidence didn't make a whole lot of sense to him, why did he ever think he could explain it to Frank? Afraid he would quickly talk himself out of this, Joe forced himself to calm down, focus on something and start talking.

Minutes passed as Frank looked out over the park watching a pick up softball game, a woman throwing tennis balls for her dog and a mother pushing her child on the swings. He noted that Joe, who had been fidgeting restlessly since they arrived, was now still – he was ready to talk.

"I had this dream last night," Joe began, watching the dog as he chased a tennis ball with abandon, thinking that while the dream wasn't the sole cause, it seemed to be what had set him off. "Third time this week. We're at the Winters mansion, we've just confronted the thieves. Everything starts out fine. But then my guy gets away." He stopped for a moment, searching for the dog that had disappeared over a hill. "I _let_ him get away…"

'_What's the matter, little boy? Scared?'_ The taunting voice from his dreams filled Joe's head.

"I was too scared to go after him." Joe gave up the search for the dog. He looked down at his hands and shook his head. "I never used to be scared of anything. But lately…"

Frank sat and listened, trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle Joe was feeding him. He knew Joe wouldn't be scared simply because of a dream, even a recurring dream. And what exactly was he afraid of? Frank remained silent, waiting for Joe to continue, needing more information to make all the pieces fit.

"He said something to me. A threat, I guess. Or a promise."

"He?" Frank repeated, certain Joe was not referring to the man in his dreams who always got away.

Joe looked up as the dog came bounding back over the hill chasing a bright yellow tennis ball. "Rashman," Joe answered softly, dropping another piece of the puzzle in Frank's lap. "He said he'd break me…and I'm starting to think…maybe…"

The rage boiled up so quickly Frank's vision was tinged red._ 'You son of a bitch!'_ he silently cursed Rashman. _'Trying to kill him wasn't enough? You had to mess with his mind, too?'_ Frank would be the first one to admit he hadn't been completely focused the day Joe gave his statement to Carlos Sanchez, but he was absolutely certain Joe hadn't mentioned this. Frank knew he would have remembered if Joe had made even the vaguest reference to it.

Joe turned to look at his brother and Frank saw something in Joe's eyes that had never existed before – self-doubt. "I think maybe he did."

'_No way, Rashman. I won't let you do this to him,'_ Frank vowed. It was obvious Joe had already started to believe it as evidenced by his strange behavior today. Frank was determined to stop it – _now_ – before it grew too big for Joe to overcome.

"And if that's true, then you have a right to know," Joe told him, "because it'll only take one time for me to freeze, or take too long to make a decision and you're the one who would end up paying for it."

Frank was fairly certain he knew what Joe was saying, albeit in a very round about way, and he couldn't believe Joe suddenly had so little faith in himself. All their lives it was Joe who literally had no fear. He was always the first one to try something new, no matter how risky or dangerous, always up for a challenge, never backing from down a dare. At times Frank wished Joe _would_ show a little fear, recalling some of the crazy things his brother had done.

"You need to know that your partner will back you up, without hesitation, no matter what. You have to have complete faith in them to make the right decision in every single time." Joe stopped and took a deep breath, looking his brother straight in the eye. "I'm not sure I can do that anymore."

Frank was silent for a moment, trying to process Joe's little speech, and truthfully, too stunned to say anything right away.

"Joe, are you asking me if I still want to work with you? Still be partners?" Frank asked, wanting to make absolutely sure he and Joe were on the same track.

"Yes," Joe replied. "If I don't think I can pull my weight, it's not right to keep it from you. It's your life that could be at stake if I screw up."

Frank shook his head, wondering if Joe had been sending signals about this for weeks now and he just hadn't picked up on them. Up until today, Joe had been acting like himself – like his _old_ self – more so than he had all year. _'At least in front of me he was,'_ Frank thought, reminding himself how good Joe had become at hiding his feelings unless he wanted them known.

Frank went through a quick mental checklist before replying, wanting to make sure he didn't inadvertently say the wrong thing and cause Joe to shut him out completely_. 'Acknowledge that he really believes this, even if I don't. Tell him I haven't seen any 'proof' of this change. Make sure he knows I wouldn't trust anyone else with my life and know he'll make the right decisions.' _Satisfied, Frank began to reply.

"Okay, first of all I understand you really do believe this, so I'm not trying to brush it off. I'm taking it very seriously. But I have to tell you, Joe, I haven't seen this guy you're talking about, who's scared, doesn't know if he can pull his own weight, or has the confidence to make the right decision.

"And you are the _only_ person I trust, one hundred percent, no questions asked, to watch my back no matter how bad the situation. There is no way you would ever let anything happen to me if it was in your power to prevent it," Frank said, looking at him intensely.

"If you'll remember, it was _you_ who finally figured out the connection between the insurance company and the domestic service. If you hadn't we might still be chasing down those jewel thieves. You're also the one who found all the connections between the victims in _this_ case – the birthdate, the city, the hospital. It was even your suggestion that made us realize why those four were targets. And you were right about the fact that I was supposed to be next." Frank's voice dropped a little. "And if you hadn't come back last night, I probably would have been next."

Joe remained silent, continuing to look out over the fields.

"That sounds like someone who knows exactly what they're doing to me. So to answer your question, I like the partner I have now just fine. I don't want a new one. Okay?"

The silence was long and heavy before Joe finally spoke. "Yeah," he replied, seeming only a little relieved. "But that was yesterday, and the day before, and last week." Joe turned to look at Frank. "What happened to me today?"

"Other than the fact that you were pretty quiet, I don't know. Was there something going on today that you never mentioned?" Frank asked, trying to draw Joe out a little more, knowing there had to be something else.

Joe opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, then shut it. Looking down at the ground, he just shook his head, indicating he'd changed his mind.

Frank rewound the day in his head, trying to recall every detail. They had arrived at Sansom's house. They had watched while the evidence was uncovered, Sansom was read his rights and handcuffed…

'_Handcuffed. That's when his wife showed up. Joe thought he saw something…'_ Frank realized that had to be what set Joe off.

"Tell me again what you said about Gloria Sansom. You know, when she first showed up at the house?" Frank requested. When Joe's head shot up and he looked at Frank slightly stunned, Frank knew he'd been right. "Didn't you ask me if I had seen something?"

"Well, yeah, but you didn't see it, so it had to be nothing, right? I had to have imagined it," Joe replied, uncertainly.

"Why would you think you imagined it? Just because I didn't see it too?" Frank pressed for more details. "Joe, I was so busy watching Sansom and the cops, I never noticed Gloria until you pointed her out. I never saw it because I wasn't _looking_ at her at the time. That doesn't mean it never happened and it certainly doesn't mean _you_ didn't see it. Tell me again, what exactly did you see?"

Buoyed by Frank's belief that he really had seen something, Joe repeated what he had witnessed. "When she first saw what was going on, saw the cops there, she got this look on her face like someone who realized they'd just been caught. And when she saw you, she almost looked like she recognized you."

"Joe, if you say that's what you saw, then I believe you. I wish I _had_ been looking at her at the time, if only to make you believe it too." Frank knew his support of Joe would make his brother feel better temporarily, but still didn't explain where all these doubts were coming from.

"Joe? Do you know what it was that suddenly made you start doubting yourself? Did something happen that I don't know about? Because you've been the same old Joe Hardy I know – taking off after Sansom when he tried to kidnap me, a high-speed car chase through downtown Bayport, suckering me and Dad into paying for most of your speeding ticket," Frank reminded him hoping for, and getting, a smile.

Joe looked back out over the fields not quite sure how to respond. He knew Frank wouldn't be happy unless there was some specific, tangible reason; something logical and sensible. And Joe didn't have one. All he had was a threat from Rashman, some strange dreams and the fear that he would never come to terms with what Rashman had done to him.

"If you're looking for a specific incident, something logical that makes sense…" Joe looked at him, wondering if he had made a mistake. "…I can't give it to you. I know that's how your mind works, but it's different for me. All I know is ever since I got home, I haven't been able to get past what Rashman did to me and I'm afraid I never will." Joe told his brother, his voice shaking. "And if I can't, then he really did break me. I know that's not enough for you–"

"Yes, it is, Joe," Frank interrupted, stopping him cold.

"It…it is?" Joe repeated, surprised.

"Of course it is," Frank replied, gently. "Believe it or not, I don't need concrete, physical proof for _everything_. What happened to you was traumatic, Joe, both physically _and_ mentally." He laid a comforting hand on Joe's shoulder. "It usually takes the psyche much longer than the body to heal from trauma. And your body still isn't one hundred percent recovered, so it would make sense that mentally – and _emotionally_ – you haven't recovered from it yet either."

He watched as Joe shifted nervously on the bars, a sure sign he was battling some internal demons. Frank knew part of Joe was relieved that Frank understood, and accepted, how he felt and why. He was just as sure that another part of his younger brother was ashamed and embarrassed at having to voice what he apparently thought were signs of weakness. Understanding this "confession" was difficult for Joe to make, Frank moved his hand slightly and gently rubbed Joe's back, a gesture that always made his brother feel secure.

"You said you haven't been able to get past what Rashman did to you and you're afraid you never will. You have talked about it in therapy, haven't you?" Frank probed gently. The way Joe had his left arm clutched to his body, almost painfully tight, told Frank he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Yes," Joe replied after a brief hesitation. "And no."

"What does that mean, exactly?" Frank pressed, knowing he was walking a fine line and hoped he wasn't pushing too hard.

"I tried but… Linda doesn't know what happened – all the details. I mean she has to know if she's going to help me, right? So I'd have to go back and tell her everything – from the beginning. All the details. I already had to do that with Carlos. I'll have to do it again at the trial…_trials_," Joe corrected himself and looked at his brother, slightly haunted by the thought of what that would entail. "How many times do I have to relive it before I get to forget about it?"

"I don't think that's something you can ever really forget, Joe, no matter how badly you want to. And the fact that you haven't dealt with it is obviously starting to manifest itself in other ways. Like these new fears and doubts about yourself.

"You know back in Chicago, Dr. Marston told Dad he wanted you to talk to someone – a therapist – while you were there. He was concerned that you hadn't said one word about what happened. Not voluntarily, anyway. He said no one could take something like that in stride," Frank told him. "He backed down when Dad told him you had a therapist here that you trusted. Joe, we all thought you'd been talking to Linda about it. You can't _not_ talk about it and assume it'll just go away," Frank said a little softer. "If you don't let it out, it will eat you alive." In truth, he wondered if it already was.

Joe sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Yeah, I guess I knew that. I just don't want to relive it all _again_." Joe turned and looked at his brother as if he had a sudden epiphany. "You know, it would be a lot easier if I could talk to someone who already knows what happened, so I didn't have to explain it all again."

Frank's heart skipped a beat as he realized what Joe was asking. Joe was finally reaching out to him, asking for help. Something that would require an enormous amount of trust on Joe's part. In his own way, Joe was letting Frank know he was ready to begin re-establishing the trust that had been lost and Frank was not about to lose this chance; he'd been waiting too long for it to come.

"You want _me_ to be that someone?" Frank asked, wanting to be sure he was reading Joe correctly. There had been far too many misunderstandings recently and he did _not_ want this to be another one.

Joe nodded, hoping Frank would agree, but giving him an out just in case. "Only if you want to. I would understand if…"

'_Can I do that without pushing myself over the edge?'_ Frank thought, reminded of his intense reaction the day of Rashman's arraignment. His hatred had only grown stronger since then and he knew that listening to Joe talk about what he had suffered through would only feed that hatred and increase his desire for revenge. Seeing the hopeful look on Joe's face, he knew that somehow he would have to find a way to deal with his own tumultuous emotions.

"Anytime you want to talk about it, I'll be ready to listen," Frank assured his brother and saw Joe visibly exhale in relief.

"Thanks," Joe said. No matter what happened between them, Frank was the one person with whom Joe could share his deepest feelings and biggest fears – never having to worry that they would be ridiculed or brushed aside.

"You're welcome." Frank smiled, thinking how ironic it was that for everything Rashman did to try and destroy Joe, he would actually end up helping the brothers reestablish the trust that had been broken, hopefully making their bond that much stronger in the process.

Seeing that Joe was looking at him with a hint of worry, Frank knew there was something more. "What else? I can see there's something still bothering you."

Joe frowned. "I just…I can't help feeling that you're not out of danger yet. George Sansom was just so adamant that he was innocent." Looking back out over the fields, Joe shrugged. "It's probably nothing," he said, hoping to convince himself that was true.

"Your feelings are usually right on the money, Joe. So I think I'll be a little extra careful for a while." Frank honestly didn't think he was in any immediate danger, but if it made Joe feel better – and Frank knew it would – he would try to be more aware of his surroundings for the forseeable future.

"That sounds good." Joe smiled. Whether Frank believed he was in danger or not, if he promised Joe he would be cautious, Joe knew he would. And that was enough to alleviate his fears, at least for the time being.

Checking his watch, Joe let out a soft whistle. "We've been here almost two hours! Guess we should get home to the womenfolk, huh?" Joe grinned, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"You can get home to your woman. Mine is out with her mother doing some mother-daughter bonding thing," Frank joked.

"You can come hang out with me and Van if you want," Joe quickly offered.

"Thanks, but an evening alone with nothing but peace and quiet sounds pretty tempting."

Climbing down off the jungle gym, Frank and Joe began the short walk back to their parents' house to retrieve their cars.

"So is there some secret Big Brother School where you go to learn all the right things to say?" Joe joked.

"Nah," Frank drawled blowing on his fingertips and rubbing them against his shirt. "I'm a natural."

"That you are," Joe agreed with a laugh.

Arriving at their cars, Joe climbed into his, waving as Frank pulled away and headed home. Smiling to himself, Joe was glad he had decided to confide in Frank, understanding they had taken a major step forward tonight. For the first time he was absolutely certain that eventually, his faith and trust in his older brother would be completely restored.

As he drove the short distance to his apartment, Joe wondered what the unlucky people, who didn't have someone like Frank in their lives, did when things got tough – and was happy he would never have to find out.


	21. Chapter 21

So glad you liked the heart to heart talk! Those are my very favorite kind of scene to write. :-)

As always, thank you SO MUCH for the reviews! Hope you continue to enjoy the story.

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 21**

As Callie lay in bed that night, she glanced at her husband and knew it would be a while before he fell asleep. In the dim light provided by the moon shining through the bedroom windows she could see Frank was staring at the ceiling, a huge grin on his face. Sensing he was being watched, Frank turned his head slightly and looked at his wife.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just wondering if you'd still have that smile plastered on your face even after you fell asleep," she teased him.

"Tease me all you want. I don't care." Frank kissed the top of her head, before he turned back to stare at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Something changed tonight, Cal. Something happened. I know Joe and I have been talking a lot more lately. Ever since…Chicago," his voice dropped on the last word.

Callie felt him shiver slightly at the memory and snuggled a little closer.

"But tonight was different. We didn't just _talk_." Frank stopped a moment, afraid he might wake up and find out he had only dreamt it all. "He trusted me. I mean he really opened up, and _trusted_ me." Frank continued to stare at the ceiling, unblinking, as the smile returned to his face. "Who knows, maybe birthday wishes really do come true."

"You know, you're going to make a great father," Callie said softly.

"You mean because I've had so much practice with Joe?" Frank chuckled.

Callie shook her head, laughing along with him. "Well, I'm sure having Joe for a younger brother helped refine your skills, but you'd make a great father anyway. You're a natural."

"Thanks. I'm looking forward to finding out if you're right." Frank suddenly he turned to his wife, a look of uncertainty on his face. "Uh…you're not trying to tell me something…are you?"

"Tell you something?" Callie looked at him, puzzled. A second later it dawned on her what Frank meant. "No!" she cried out. "Oh, no. I'm not pregnant. No babies _yet_."

"Whew," Frank said, somewhat relieved. "I mean I know we've talked about it and all but…hey, I'm selfish. Right now, I don't want to share you with anyone. I want you all to myself for a few more years."

"Well, we're in agreement on that. I'd like to wait a little longer myself," she concurred. "But, when we do have kids," she said slyly. "What do you want first – a boy or a girl?"

Frank chuckled. "Isn't that up to Mother Nature?"

"But if it wasn't. If you could choose. What would you want first?" Callie persisted.

"Hmm…A boy I think."

"Why?"

"Every kid needs an older brother."

"I never had one. And neither did you," Callie pointed out.

"True. But a lot of times I felt like Dad was more of a brother than a father, you know. He never talked down to me. When I asked him a question, he'd talk to me like I was an adult, an equal – even when I was a kid," Frank said, obviously recalling some fond childhood memories.

"You've always been an 'old soul'. Okay, so we have a boy first, who looks just like his Daddy. What next?"

"You pick this time."

"Another boy," she said, adding quietly. "Maybe a year or two younger. Not much more."

Frank looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "By any chance, does this second boy have blonde hair, blue eyes and think he's invincible?"

Callie squirmed a little in his embrace, refusing to answer, and Frank laughed out loud. Remembering the first few years he and Callie had been together and how she and Joe would fight like cats and dogs, he realized, at that moment, just how much Callie had come to love Joe.

"Your turn to pick." Callie said.

"A girl," Frank replied wistfully, staring at the ceiling.

Noting the change in Frank's voice, Callie pushed herself up slightly, taking in the faraway look on his face.

"Daddy's girl," she whispered, then settled back into Frank's warm embrace and fell asleep dreaming of her new family.

oooOOOooo

The following afternoon, Frank was putting the finishing touches on his report when Joe walked into his office.

"Dad's just about ready to wrap it up. You almost done?" Joe leaned over Frank's shoulder to look at the monitor.

"Done," Frank announced, saving and printing the document. Joe backed up allowing Frank to push his chair back and stand up. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. Go ahead."

"Did you mention anything to Dad about Gloria Sansom yesterday?" Frank asked the question that had come to him out of the blue a short time earlier. "Maybe he saw something too."

"No, I didn't," Joe said a little uncomfortably. "I assumed if he'd seen it he would have said something."

"You saw it and you didn't say anything," Frank pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I think Dad has a pretty healthy level of self-confidence. He would have said something."

"Why don't we mention it anyway. See what his take on it is," Frank suggested, watching as Joe shifted uneasily. "Joe, he'll believe you, just like I did," he said encouragingly.

Joe thought about it a moment, then sighed. "Okay, if you want to. But what difference does it make now? George Sansom has already been arraigned."

"I'd just like to hear his thoughts on it, that's all."

Walking back into Fenton's office, Frank dropped his report on the desk. Afraid Joe would change his mind, Frank began telling his father what Joe had seen as he took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Fenton listened intently, then turned his eyes on Joe.

"Is there some reason why didn't you mention this yesterday?" Fenton asked, recalling how subdued Joe had been.

"I don't know," Joe replied evasively. "I guess once Sansom was arrested it didn't seem all that important."

"Was there anything else you saw that you didn't mention?" Fenton pressed, getting the feeling Joe hadn't revealed a lot of the things he noticed the day before.

Joe hesitated a beat before answering, the feelings of self-doubt creeping up on him again. "No, nothing I _saw_."

Fenton looked at Frank with raised eyebrows, with Frank returning an almost identical look. Was Joe about to reveal something he hadn't mentioned in their marathon talk the previous evening?

"Something you thought? Something you felt?" Fenton continued, trying to get Joe to open up. "Your instincts are usually pretty good."

"Well, when we were all standing out in the hall, after Sansom's attorney stopped the questioning, Gloria Sansom told Frank he reminded her of her son." Joe answered, realizing this had continued to bother him even now.

"From what I read about him in the paper and heard on the news, it sounds like he and Frank had a lot in common."

"Yeah, but…up until that moment, Gloria Sansom had never met Frank before. How would she know what he had in common with her son?" Joe pointed out.

Fenton sat back in his chair, quickly replaying the scene in the corridor in his mind. "You're right, she did say that," he murmured. "Maybe she meant he physically reminded her of her son."

"I don't look a thing like her son," Frank finally spoke, the uneasiness clear in his voice. "And I don't recall meeting her before that moment. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but she kept mentioning how smart her son was and how I was so much like him in that respect."

"Joe," Fenton turned his attention back to his youngest son. "I know you were feeling…out of sorts yesterday. Is there anything else you didn't mention? Anything that, in hindsight, might be worth discussing?"

"I'm not sure, really." Joe sat up a little, boosted by his father's confidence in his opinion. "It's not anything new…I guess I was looking at things differently than everyone else was."

"What things?" Fenton urged him to continue.

"Gloria Sansom didn't have an alibi for the night Frank was almost kidnapped. Or the nights of the other assaults. She was renovating her house – _alone_. She had access to the car, same as George Sansom did. Frank said she told him her husband had given her a set of keys and permission to use it anytime." Now thoroughly engrossed in his recital, Joe held up a hand and began to tick off the items on his fingers. "She's also a registered nurse. She has worked in the ER and the operating room. So, she has the same medical knowledge and skill as her husband – maybe more. She had means and opportunity, just like he did. No motive that we know of, but that holds true for her husband too. So why wasn't she ever even considered as a suspect?" Joe finished looking from his father to Frank and seeing matching stunned expressions.

Seeing all the evidence presented from that perspective, Frank now understood completely why Joe had said yesterday that he was still in danger.

"I don't think I have a good answer for that, Joe," Fenton finally admitted. "It never occurred to me to look at it from that point of view but…you're right. When you present all the facts in that light, and put them together with her comments about Frank and what you saw when she first approached the house…there's no logical reason why her husband should be considered a suspect but she shouldn't." Looking at his watch, Fenton noted it was just about dinner time. "I'll call Sam tonight and run all this by him. See if he wants to take a closer look at Gloria Sansom."

"What if he doesn't?" Frank asked.

Fenton shrugged. "We don't need his permission to investigate her. If Joe feels this strongly about her, we'll check into it. I'll let you know what he says tomorrow and we'll go from there. And Frank…" He stopped, making sure he had Frank's full attention. "It would be prudent for you to be a little more cautious until we get this settled."

"I intend to," Frank replied.

Bidding their father goodnight, Frank and Joe stopped in the house to see Laura before leaving.

"So what are you doing tonight?" Frank asked as he and Joe walked to their cars. "It's 'Girls Night Out' you know."

"Yeah, I remember." Joe laughed. "You know I don't think I ever thanked Callie for coming up with that."

Prior to Joe's trip to Chicago, Vanessa had just begun to feel secure enough to venture out of the house alone. Up to that point, other than going to work, she didn't like being out in public without Joe close by. Ever since they had returned from Chicago, Joe had noticed she would no longer leave the apartment without him. Many times during his home confinement, family and friends had come to visit Joe, giving Vanessa the chance to leave for a few hours, which she steadfastly refused. It didn't take long for Joe to realize it wasn't because she didn't trust anyone else to stay with him, as much as she had taken a few steps back in her own recovery.

When Joe mentioned his concerns to Callie during one of her visits, she quickly instituted "Girls Night Out". At least once every two weeks, Callie would organize some kind of outing for 'girls only', going on the assumption if Vanessa got comfortable enough going out with a group of friends – without Joe – the next logical step would be venturing out on her own. Unaware of the ulterior motive, Vanessa agreed to try it once after some prodding from Joe, and found she loved it. Now if too much time went by between outings, Vanessa would be on the phone with Callie begging her friend to "get the girls together."

"Why don't we take their lead? What would you say to Boys Night Out?" Frank suggested.

"Alright!" Joe exclaimed, reaching for his cell phone. "I'll call Biff and Tony…"

"Wait." Frank plced a restraining hand on Joe's arm. "I was thinking more along the lines of just you and me. Maybe I'd like to treat my kid brother to a night out."

"Even better." Joe grinned. "So where are we going?"

Frank thought for a moment, his face breaking into a smile. "How about that new virtual reality place that opened up down by the waterfront? They even have a restaurant so we can have dinner first."

"Really?" Joe asked, eyes wide. "I heard it's kind of expensive."

"That's okay. I think you're worth it." Frank nudged Joe towards his car. "Come on, the sooner we get there the more time I have to beat you."

"In your dreams!" Joe called out as he got into his car, anticipating a night of fun and excitement with his older brother.

oooOOOooo

Driving home that night, Frank knew something that had been lost so many months ago had finally been found. He felt a sense of peace that had been missing for far too long. Tonight had been like going back in time. Joe had been happy – _really_ happy – not the "show" he'd been putting on all these months. Tonight, the smiles were genuine and the laugh was contagious. There wasn't a trace of sadness in Joe's blue eyes and the haunted look that had always lingered there was gone, leaving only the mischievous sparkle that hinted of things to come.

Joe had been in rare form this evening with the jokes, wisecracks and one-liners coming fast and furious. A few times Frank's stomach hurt from laughing so much he had begged Joe to stop – but only for a moment. Thinking back, Frank was glad he decided to be selfish tonight and vetoed Joe's suggestion that they call some of their friends and make a real party out of the evening. After their talk at the park the night before, Frank had sensed a change in Joe, a change for the better. As selfish as it was, Frank didn't want to share that with anyone else, not yet.

Catching a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror, Frank realized he hadn't stopped smiling since he and Joe had separated to make their way home. And he knew the reason wasn't because tonight had taken them back in time to happier days, but because they had turned a corner into the future. Something had "died" inside Joe a long time ago as a result of the hell he had been through. At times Frank had feared the change would be permanent although he never gave up hope, and tonight that hope was rewarded when the "something" had come back to life.

The fiery passion Joe always had for living every moment to it's fullest had been re-ignited. Although Frank had seen sparks of it here and there – during their weekend in New York City, at the Yankees game that had led to a night of disaster – something had always occurred to quickly extinguish the spark. This time Frank knew the change was permanent.

Recalling his promise to both Joe and his father, Frank drove past his house once, carefully checking the area where he thought the darts had come from two nights earlier. Seeing nothing unusual, he still drove around the block just to be sure before finally pulling into his driveway. As he parked his car in the garage, Frank noted the house was enveloped in darkness indicating Callie had not yet returned home from her night out with the girls. Getting out of the car, he locked it and walked to the front of the garage, peering out the small windows at the same spot he'd just scrutinized. Satisfied he was safe, he exited the garage via the side door.

While the back door of the house was closer to him, it was also dark and isolated. Deciding it was better to be cautious than save a few seconds, Frank decided to use the front door, which was visible from the street. Walking up to the front porch, Frank stopped to collect the mail before inserting his key in the deadbolt lock on the door.

Having focused all his surveillance on the spot across the street and it's surrounding area, Frank never saw the lone figure crouched behind the bushes by the porch. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his neck. Dropping the mail to the ground, Frank's hand flew to his neck and he felt something sticking out of it. His vision began to blur and he became unsteady on his feet. Leaning against the door for support, he fell to his knees. Seconds later he was enveloped in darkness, as his assailant moved out of hiding, now standing over Frank's unconscious body.

"I'm sorry, Frank. I really liked you."

The arduous task of getting Frank into the car parked in the shadows next to the house without arousing the neighbors' suspicions took some doing, but was finally accomplished. The car was started, put into gear and slowly maneuvered down to the street. Turning left, the driver glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled at Frank's prone body sprawled across the backseat.

'_Didn't you realize you couldn't escape? This is your destiny.'_

Frank Hardy was the last one on the list. The mission would be completed tonight. Turning onto the interstate, the driver slowly made their way out of Bayport to freedom.


	22. Chapter 22

OOPS!! I almost skipped this chapter and posted chapter 23 by accident! :p Good thing I checked first! :D

Thanks so much for the reviews! :-)

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 22**

Upon returning home, Joe settled in to catch the rest of the Yankees game while waiting for Vanessa to return from her evening out. Although Joe was looking at the TV, he was seeing the evening he had spent with his brother. They had continued to spend time together, even when it hadn't been the best of times. But there had been something different about tonight. Joe felt as if something that had been missing for so long had suddenly returned, somehow brought back to life.

Although it had been obvious to those close to him, Joe had never figured out exactly what it was. He never understood that the little boy inside him had disappeared a long time ago, chased away by betrayal. The little boy who had always felt safe with his older brother. The little boy whose trust had been shattered, causing him to release the hand of his adored older brother and drift away from the one person who always made him feel safe.

Afraid of being hurt again, the little boy had run and hidden himself away in a dark corner. Occasionally, the little boy would poke his head out, hoping it was safe, hoping the older brother he missed had come looking for him. But a voice had always told him, _"Not yet, it's too soon."_ and he would scurry back into hiding.

Until tonight. Tonight he had heard his older brother calling him and when he poked his head out, the voice told him he could come out and play. It was time to begin healing. And the little boy had returned with a vengeance, reclaiming his place as the apple of his brother's eye.

Joe may not have understood, but it was that little boy who had made all the difference tonight. It was the little boy who had made him feel whole again. The little boy had quietly taken hold of his older brother's hand once more, instinctively knowing his brother would never do anything that would force him to let go again.

oooOOOooo

As Callie pulled up in front of the apartment building, Vanessa noticed Joe's car in the parking lot. "Oh, good. Joe's home. Why don't you come up and say hi?" she suggested turning to Callie.

"You're sure it's okay?" Callie asked hesitantly.

"Yes, I'm sure. You and Joe have made a lot of progress. And his ego will love the fact that you came up just to see him," she grinned.

"Alright." Callie parked the car and followed Vanessa up to the apartment.

As Vanessa opened the door, Joe looked up from where he was sitting on the couch, pleasantly surprised to see Callie. Getting up Joe walked over to them, greeting Vanessa with a hug and a kiss before turning to his sister-in-law.

"Hey, Cal . What brings you up here?" he asked with a smile.

"Just came up to see my favorite brother-in-law," Callie joked.

"And that competition is so stiff," Vanessa cracked. "Do you want something to drink, Cal ?" she asked moving to the kitchen.

"No, thanks. Just wanted to say hi to Joe," Callie replied, turning her attention back to Joe. "I'm surprised you guys got home before we did. When Frank called he said you were going to that new virtual reality arcade downtown. I figured you two would close the place."

"I wanted to but Frank said he was tired and wanted to call it a night. Looks like my big brother is getting to be an old man. After all, he will be twenty-five next week. He just couldn't keep up with me." Joe shook his head in mock sadness.

After a few more minutes of conversation, Callie bid Joe and Vanessa goodnight to make her way home.

Returning from the kitchen, Vanessa put her glass of soda on the end table and curled up on the couch next to Joe.

"So you two had a good time tonight?" she asked, noting the sparkle in Joe's eyes that had been absent for far too long.

"We had a _great_ time," Joe corrected her, his voice dropping almost in awe. "Van, it was just like it used to be. Something changed tonight. We really _clicked_. It was almost like the past six months never even happened."

Laying her head on Joe's shoulder, Vanessa listened as Joe excitedly recalled the night for her and she knew he was right. Something had changed in the brothers' relationship and this time it was only for the better. There was a thrill in Joe's voice again and the admiration that used to be so evident when he talked about Frank, the admiration that had been missing for so long, was back.

Smiling to herself, Vanessa hoped this was a sign that their streak of bad luck was finally coming to an end.

oooOOOooo

Arriving home a short time later, Callie got out of the car and laughed to herself, noting the house was completely cloaked in darkness. _'He's already asleep. I guess Joe really __did__ wear him out! ' _

Nearing the porch, Callie noticed a white envelope lying on the ground next to the bottom step. Picking it up, she saw it was a bill. _'Hmm. Frank must have dropped it when he got the mail.' _

Taking a few more steps, Callie saw another envelope. Glancing up, she saw several more envelopes and two magazines strewn about the porch. Her heart started to beat a little faster as it suddenly occurred to her that Frank hadn't left the porch light on for her – something he never failed to do. Taking the porch steps in two strides, she came to an abrupt halt as fear gripped her. Frank's keys were dangling from the lock in the door. Quickly retreating back down the steps, Callie ran to the garage. Peering through a window, she easily made out the shape of Frank's car in the muted darkness.

Frank had obviously arrived home after his night out with Joe, but never made it into the house - he had clearly run into trouble. Not knowing exactly what happened, Callie retreated to the safety of her car, locking the doors. Fumbling in her purse, she pulled out her cell phone and punched in a single digit with shaking hands.

"Hurry up! Answer the…_JOE_! Frank's gone!" Callie cried out the second Joe answered, her eyes now filled with tears. "Yes, _gone_!" "I don't know." Callie responded to Joe's frantic questions, her voice trembling. "His car is in the garage, his keys are in the door, and the mail is all over the ground. But there's no sign of him." She waited, listening to Joe. "The house is completely dark. He never made it inside." There was another pause as Joe reassured her he was on his way. "Okay, but _hurry_!"

Hanging up, Callie stared at the house that was their sanctuary yet now looked so dark and foreboding. _'Please hurry, Joe…' _

oooOOOooo

"What is it? What's wrong?" Vanessa asked, the second Joe hung up.

"Frank's gone!" Joe replied, grabbing for his keys and racing to the door with Vanessa right behind him.

Reaching the door, Joe suddenly stopped and leaned his forehead against it, trying to get control of his emotions. _'I was right!'_ he thought, horrified. His self-doubt had caused him to remain silent when he had, in fact, come to the right conclusion – had been the _only_ one who came to the right conclusion. His biggest fear, the one Frank had assured him would never come true, was now a reality as Frank was paying the price for his lack of confidence.

'_Why didn't you listen to me?!'_ the little voice in his head screamed. _'I __told__ you it was Gloria Sansom and you ignored me!' _

'_We've never lied to you!' _the butterflies in his stomach chorused._ 'We're always right! You should have listened!' _

His gut instinct had been right again, but he had talked himself out of it in the face of overwhelming self-doubt. And although it was very different from the scenario he had originally imagined, his brother was still going to pay the price for his mistake.

"Joe? What's wrong?" Vanessa asked, alarmed, as Joe stood rooted to the spot.

"I knew it. I knew it wasn't George Sansom," Joe whispered. Turning to Vanessa, his eyes were haunted, filled with regret. "I _knew_ we arrested the wrong person, but I didn't have the courage to speak up."

Sensing Joe was on the edge and could either fall apart or take control, Vanessa tried to prod him in the right direction. Reaching past him, she unlocked the door and pulled it open. "Then you're already one step ahead of the game. You don't have to waste time trying to figure out what happened to him." Gently, she nudged him out the door, closing and locking it behind her. "Let's go. We'll call your father on the way and he can meet us there."

Taking Joe's arm, she hurried him down the hall towards the stairs and out into the parking lot. As he drove, Vanessa called Fenton, relaying what Joe told her Callie had said. Moments later, Joe pulled into his brother's driveway and jumped out of the car, having made the short trip in record time. Callie emerged from her car and ran to Joe, throwing herself into his arms, crying. Now much calmer thanks to Vanessa's constant stream of reassuring words as he drove, Joe surveyed the scene with a critical eye while holding Callie tightly.

"Did you touch anything?" he asked, the detective in him emerging and pushing the scared little brother out of the way.

"N-no," she stammered into his shoulder.

Reaching up, Joe gently pried Callie's arms from around his neck while looking at Vanessa, who immediately took his place, putting a comforting arm around Callie's shoulders.

"I need to look around, Cal . Stay here with Vanessa." Joe grabbed a high-powered flashlight from the car. He'd made it as far as the porch and had just begun looking around when a squeal of tires and a pair of headlights announced the arrival of Fenton Hardy.

Scrambling out of his car, Fenton stopped next to Callie just long enough to give her a hug before appearing at Joe's side. "What have you got so far?" he asked Joe, looking at the scene intently.

"Not much yet," Joe murmured, taking a few steps towards the bushes next to the porch. Shining the light around the bushes, he noted footprints in the soft dirt and a few bent and broken branches. "She hid here and waited for him." Joe held the light in place while his father looked over his shoulder. "I'll bet Frank was overly cautious about making sure there was no one sitting in a car across the street. That's where she was the first time she went after him. It never occurred to him that she'd be so close." He turned to look at his father. "It _was_ Gloria…we agree on that, right?"

"Absolutely." Fenton replied, slowly walking towards the garage, playing his own flashlight along the ground. He carefully scrutinized every inch of the yard between the porch and the garage, pointing out the marks in the grass left behind by a body that had obviously been dragged quite a distance. He came to a sudden stop with Joe right behind him.

"There," he said simply, shining the light on the ground next to the garage. Tire tracks in the grass, which had been hidden by the darkness, were now clearly visible in the strong beam of light. As he moved the light, they could clearly see that Gloria had walked between the tire tracks as she dragged an unconscious Frank to the car.

Walking on either side of the imprints, Joe and Fenton made their way to the rear of the garage, finding the spot where Gloria Sansom had parked her car. "It would have been almost invisible in the dark," Joe said quietly. "No wonder Frank never saw her."

Fenton turned to Joe. "Okay, where would she have taken him?"

Joe frowned, trying to recall every piece of information they had about her. "The house! The one she's renovating!"

"Did Frank say where it was?" Fenton asked, hoping they wouldn't have to waste precious time trying to locate it.

"No," Joe replied. "But it's either in her name or her son's name. Can't you and Vanessa use Frank's computer to find it? Isn't there some kind of public record?" he finished excitedly. Joe had no idea exactly what Gloria Sansom had in store for Frank, but if she were to follow her pattern she was planning to relieve him of his 'gift'. "Dad, what do you think she intends to do to him?" Joe asked, the scared little brother suddenly reappearing.

"I don't know, Joe, but we'll find him before she has a chance to carry it out," Fenton said, not quite sure he believed it himself. She had a head start on them and they still didn't know where she had taken Frank. "Let's get inside. We can't waste anymore time."

Moments later, the foursome was gathered in Frank's office, as Vanessa booted up his computer, the haunting stillness broken only by an occasional whimper from Callie. Realizing his father and Vanessa could probably work faster without him hovering over their shoulders, Joe took Callie by the arm and led her downstairs to the living room.

As soon as they were seated on the couch, Callie broke down. Everything she and Frank had talked about the night before came tumbling out, punctuated by heart breaking sobs. She told Joe how they had talked about starting a family, how many children they wanted, and their dreams for the future.

As Joe held her, he felt as if a knife had been plunged into his heart. He thought about the blood test Vanessa had taken a few days earlier. They wouldn't know the results for another week yet and even though a negative result would be a good sign, he understood that was still no guarantee they would be able to have children of their own. Knowing he might never be a father, Joe had clung to the knowledge that at least he would be an uncle to Frank and Callie's children. Holding Callie a little tighter, he prayed that dream would still come true.

Hearing his father's voice drifting down the stairs, Joe looked up to see Vanessa entering the living room with Fenton right behind her talking on his cell phone.

"Yes." "Joe and I should be there in half an hour." "Yes." "Thanks, Sam." Returning the phone to his pocket, he addressed Joe and Callie.

"Vanessa found a record of a house owned by Blake Sansom. It's about thirty minutes from here. I have a hunch that's where Gloria took all her victims, to…" Seeing the look in Callie's eyes, he didn't finish the sentence. "Sam is on the way with back up. He's also having EMT's and an ambulance sent there."

As Joe stood to join his father, Callie stood up, again putting her arms around him, holding onto him tightly. Fresh tears ran down her cheeks as Joe held her for a moment, before Vanessa gently tried to guide her back to the couch. Suddenly her grip on Joe tightened, as the sobs returned. Clutching Joe's shirt, she refused to let go, as if breaking the physical connection with him would somehow sever her union with Frank.

"Please, Cal, I have to go," Joe said softly, Callie's cries almost breaking his heart. Again he looked to Vanessa, his eyes begging for help.

"Come on, Callie. Sit here with me. The sooner they can leave, the sooner Frank will be home," Vanessa coaxed, attempting to pull Callie away from Joe.

Finally releasing him, Callie looked at her brother-in-law, tears staining her pretty face. "Please bring him home, Joe."

Unable to speak over the lump in his throat, Joe nodded and then walked away, following his father out into the night.

As Callie collapsed in tears on the couch, Vanessa sat next to her friend, holding her while she cried. Flooded with memories from two months earlier, Vanessa clearly saw herself sitting on the edge of the bed in Joe's old room, sobbing just as Callie was now. Terrified that she would never see Joe alive again, she had lost all control and Callie had been there to offer comfort and let her know she wasn't alone. As Vanessa now shed a few tears of her own, she vowed not to leave Callie's side until they knew Frank would be home, safe and sound – just as Callie had done for her when Joe was missing.


	23. Chapter 23

Thanks so much for reviewing!! :-)

Liz - Your review cracked me up!! You know me a little too well, I think. :p

I've never been obsessed with word counts (I don't even pay attention to them) or a believer in blathering on and on just to fill up a page. I got everything I wanted in this chapter and ended it where it needed to be ended. So yup, it's short, but sometimes that's the way it goes. I hope you enjoy it. ;-)

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 23**

Very slowly, Frank began to wake up. The first things he noticed were the pounding in his head and the fact that he felt as if he'd been chewing on a mouthful of cotton. He tried to sit up and get a look at his surroundings but found he couldn't move.

Forcing back the panic that had taken hold, Frank opened his eyes and was blinded by a spotlight that was aimed directly on his face. Hissing in pain, he quickly shut his eyes, trying to remember what had let to his current predicament. He heard footsteps approach and the spotlight was pushed to the side. When he opened his eyes again, Frank found himself staring up into the face of Gloria Sansom.

"Yes. It was me all along."

She smiled down at him, reaching up to adjust something out of Frank's line of sight. Craning his neck, Frank tried to see what she was doing and for the first time he noticed the two IV's leading into his arms. Moving to the other side of the table Frank was strapped to, Gloria began adjusting the second IV, allowing the liquid to flow more rapidly.

"What are you doing?" Frank asked, trying to remain calm in spite of the cold fear that gripped him. "What's in there?" He eyed the clear, plastic lines apprehensively.

"Medication," Gloria replied vaguely. "I didn't expect you to wake up so soon. If you like, I can give you another sedative so you won't be too uncomfortable when they start." She seemed to be genuinely concerned about Frank's comfort.

"When _what_ starts?" Frank repeated, tension evident in his voice. "What are you doing to me?"

"I'm taking away your gift."

"My…_gift_?" Frank asked, confused.

"Yes. Your gift." She chuckled at the expression on his face. "Come now, Frank. Don't be so modest. You're an extremely intelligent young man. Brilliant in fact. Some would even consider you a genius."

She gazed across the room at something Frank couldn't see and sighed heavily. "But I'm afraid I can't let you keep your gift. Blake couldn't keep his gift. None of you can keep your gifts."

"I'm really not all that special, you know," Frank told her, trying to buy some time, hoping to come up with a way out.

"Oh, but you are. You're very special." She smiled down on him, gently brushing her hand across his cheek. "In fact you remind me of my Blake. He had the same kind of gift you have. But I already told you that." Sighing again, she moved away from Frank. "He could have done so much good in this world."

"Then why don't you let me go. I can do good in his name." Frank knew he was grasping at straws but he had no idea how long he had before whatever was dripping into his veins would start to affect him.

"I wish I could," Gloria said, as if the decision to let him go wasn't hers to make. "But you all have to follow in Blake's footsteps. He was the first, you know. Born at 12:01 a.m. on July 14, 1977. And you were the last. Born at 11:58 p.m. Ironic, don't you think, that the first and last baby born on that day were both brilliant beyond anything their parents had ever hoped for?" Gloria shook her head, smiling, before she continued.

"All Blake's peers will have to live the rest of their lives without their special gifts, just as he will. You were the last one on the list. Once your gift is gone, my mission will be complete. Justice will finally be served. You all followed him into the world on that day. And all of you will continue to follow him. Whatever path he takes, you will follow. All of you – the gifted ones – are destined to be together. Forever."

'_She's nuts!'_ Frank knew he couldn't possibly reason with her, and prayed Joe and his father could track him down before it was too late_. 'Come on, little brother. I can't get out of this one on my own. I know you can do it. I just hope you know it, too.'_

"What's in there?" Frank asked about the IV's again, wanting to prepare himself for whatever was in store for him.

"Theophylline. It's used to treat asthma. However, when it's administered intravenously in large doses, it causes severe convulsions."

Frank paled as he listened to her soft, lilting voice describing what was about to happen.

"The convulsions result in permanent, irreversible brain damage. When that happens, your gift will be gone. But don't worry, you won't miss it. When you wake up, you'll have approximately the same mental capacity as my Blake – that of a five-year-old. It's only fitting, don't you think? You were both so brilliant." She sighed, wistfully. Adjusting the IV's one more time Gloria looked down at him with a motherly smile. "Are you sure you wouldn't like that sedative now?"


	24. Chapter 24

Thanks so much for the reviews! I have a medical background so I have a good working knowledge but I did do some research for that last chapter. It's one of my pet peeves – when a writer wants a dramatic illness or injury scene but is too lazy to do the requisite research so they make stuff up and it comes out sounding totally unbelievable. And that's my speech for the day! LOL!

Thanks again! And thank you to all who are reading. :-)

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 24**

Fenton Hardy drove, lost in thought, hoping Sam Peterson, his officers and the EMT's could reach Frank before Gloria Sansom could carry out whatever she had planned. He knew she intended to take away Frank's 'gift' – his extraordinary intelligence. Fenton had briefly run through the different ways she might accomplish that – each one more gruesome than the next – and quickly changed his train of thought.

"Dad?" Joe's quiet voice reminded Fenton he was not alone in the car. It suddenly occurred to him that Joe hadn't uttered a word since they left. Fenton realized that had he been thinking clearly, he would have known immediately that something was wrong.

"Yes?" He turned, briefly, to glance at Joe.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault," Joe said, the slightest tremor in his voice.

"No, it isn't," Fenton said forcefully. "You couldn't possibly-"

"I knew!" Joe cut him off. "I knew it was her right from the start! I knew it the day George Sansom was arrested! I was just too…_stupid_…to say anything!" Joe continued his voice breaking.

"You are _not_ stupid! Don't ever let me hear you say that again!" Fenton reprimanded before continuing in a much gentler tone. "You _did_ say something yesterday. You explained why you considered her a suspect. You methodically laid out your evidence. And you were right. You couldn't have done any more, so please stop second-guessing yourself."

"But if I had done all that two days ago, instead of waiting…" Joe began, guilt ridden that his brother was in the hands of a madwoman because of his inability to make a decision.

"If you had done all that two days ago, there wouldn't have been enough conclusive evidence to arrest either one of them. We would have had to let them both go free until we had more proof as to which one was the assailant. Gloria probably still would have gone after Frank, but the difference is we wouldn't have known who abducted him." Fenton stopped and looked at Joe, hoping his words would have the desired effect.

"Joe, your silence didn't _condemn_ Frank. In fact, it helped him. We didn't have to waste time trying to decide who might have taken him or where we should start looking. Keeping your thoughts to yourself that day was probably the best thing you could have done."

Fenton watched as Joe stared out the window, remaining silent. He could tell Joe was thinking about everything he'd said. He knew Joe would eventually see that he was right, but he also knew that no matter how 'right' he was, Joe would still feel as if he had let his brother down. Sighing inwardly, Fenton knew the only thing that would make Joe feel better was to arrive at their destination to find his brother unharmed.

Twenty minutes later, Fenton pulled up in front of a house surrounded by police cars, blue and red lights flashing, giving off an eerie glow in the darkness. He was both relieved and concerned to see the ambulance parked in the driveway.

Getting out of the car, he and Joe were immediately approached by one of Sam's officers.

"Mr. Hardy. Chief told us to be on the lookout for you. Right this way." The led the way into the house.

Walking down the front hall, past the living room they entered the kitchen. The officer continued through an open door and down a steep set of cement steps with Fenton and Joe rushing down behind him. As they entered the room at the bottom of the stairs, Joe and Fenton came skidding to a halt beside Sam Peterson, taking in the sight before them, shocked.

Frank was lying motionless on the cold, hard cement floor with two EMT's hovering over him, their various pieces of equipment strewn about. Several police officers meticulously moved around the room, collecting and preserving evidence while obviously giving the medical personnel a wide berth.

Joe stared at his older brother for a moment, then began moving towards him. Suddenly, Frank's body began to twitch. Joe stopped in his tracks, watching in horror as Frank's body convulsed and contorted uncontrollably. The paramedics leaned away from Frank, making sure there was nothing in his way that could injure him should he bump into it.

Precious seconds passed with only the sound of Frank occasionally gagging and gasping for air breaking the silence. As Frank's back arched painfully, his arm flailed to the side hitting one of the IV stands that hadn't been moved far enough away, snapping Joe out of his daze.

"Do something!! Help him!" Joe screamed at the EMT's.

When they simply looked at him sympathetically, he barreled forward, determined to do something – anything – to help his brother. Instantly, he felt himself grabbed from behind and heard his father's distraught voice.

"Joe, there is nothing you can do for him!" Fenton said, his voice full of emotion as he tried to hold back his younger son.

Joe continued moving forward somehow, dragging his father with him. "Frank!" he cried out as a particularly bad shudder wracked his brother's body.

Now there were more arms around Joe, holding him back, preventing him from reaching Frank.

"NO! Let me go!!" Joe yelled, fighting desperately to get away. "Please, let me help him! _Please_, Dad!!"

Joe stopped momentarily, unable to tear his eyes away from Frank, who was helpless and at the mercy of his own body whose neurological signals had obviously gone haywire. In that moment, the hands that were holding him back loosened considerably. Sensing it was his last chance to get to his brother, Joe tried to sprint the short distance separating them. Almost immediately he felt a sharp pain on the side of his neck and was quickly enveloped in blackness.


	25. Chapter 25

Thanks to all who took a minute in this very hectic season to leave a comment. You guys rock! MERRY CHRISTMAS!! (Or merry whatever it is you choose to celebrate! ;-) )

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 25**

"I think he's coming around," Joe heard a vaguely familiar voice announce.

"Joe? Can you hear me?" Despite the cobwebs in his brain and the dull throbbing in his head, Joe recognized his father's voice.

"Yeah," he croaked. "I can hear you." A moment later, he cautiously opened his eyes. "Frank?" he asked, looking at his father fearfully.

"Already on his way to the hospital," Fenton replied calmly, although Joe could see the worry etched on his father's face.

"Help me…up." Joe struggled to push himself up, as memories of the moments immediately following Iola's death assaulted him. He knew without asking that his father had used the same technique to render him unconscious Frank had on that horrible day so long ago.

Sam and Fenton assisted him to a seated position on the floor. Seeing Joe was still a little woozy, Fenton held his arm against Joe's back for support.

"Take it easy, Joe. Just sit here for a few minutes."

Joe nodded his agreement, deciding it was best not to stand up until the room stopped spinning.

"What did she do to him?" Joe asked his father. A shiver ran down his spine as he recalled watching his brother's body convulsing uncontrollably.

"When Sam and his officers arrived, she had him hooked up to two IV lines," Fenton began in a hushed voice.

"IV's?" Joe asked, confused. "Why? What was in them?"

"Theophylline," Sam replied. "It's used to treat severe cases of asthma. But when it's administered via IV in large doses it causes convulsions. Seizures."

"But why?" Joe asked again, not understanding why Gloria would simply want Frank to have seizures.

"If the seizures are numerous and severe enough, they result in permanent, irreversible brain damage," Sam finished quietly.

All the color drained from Joe's face and he felt light headed. "I think I'm gonna be sick," he blurted out, lunging for a trash can.

oooOOOooo

Fenton had his eyes on the police cruiser in front of him, with its lights flashing and siren blaring, grateful for the escort to the hospital. Every few minutes, he would glance at Joe who was sitting in the passenger seat, uncharacteristically silent. Fenton understood that Joe was shell-shocked by what had happened, but the longer Joe remained quiet the more concerned he became.

Fenton knew it was obvious to anyone who met his sons, that their relationship was much different than normal siblings. But it wasn't until this year, when Joe's seemingly endless streak of bad luck had begun, that he realized just how heavily Joe depended on his older brother to get him through the bad times. Prior to this year, other than Iola Morton's death, Joe didn't really have any bad times. Looking at Joe once more, he began to wonder if maybe he hadn't done enough to prepare his youngest son for the horrible realities life could sometimes impart.

Fenton stole another glance at him, increasingly worried that his son who was always ruled by his heart now seemed so…dead…inside. Joe had always been the light of their lives. His permanent smile and infectious laughter was impossible to ignore. However Fenton knew if Frank did not recover from this, that light would be extinguished for good.

…

As they drove in silence, the perfectly spaced streetlights illuminated Joe's pale face, his eyes vacantly staring out the window, matching what he felt inside – numb.

'_Convulsions. Seizures. Irreversible brain damage.'_

Joe couldn't even process the words, let alone think of them in connection with his brother. Frank was strong. And smart; incredibly smart. He could find a way out of _any_ situation, no matter how bleak. Those words couldn't possibly apply to him. Joe knew he was dreaming and any minute he'd wake up in a cold sweat, wondering what in the world had caused him to have such unbelievable nightmares about the brother he revered.

"Joe?" Fenton's voice interrupted his thoughts, rudely reminding Joe this was no dream.

"Yes?" Joe replied, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

"I know it looked bad. But Sam and the EMT's got there pretty quickly. You may be worrying for nothing." Fenton tried to reassure Joe, give him something to hold on to.

"Right," Joe said in the same emotionless voice. Leaning his head against the glass, he stared out the window, his thoughts as dark as the night.

Within minutes they had arrived at the hospital, meeting Sam in the waiting room. After filling out the required forms, Fenton took a seat next to Joe. Sam had mentioned Gloria Sansom made a complete confession and he was now ready to hear the details.

Sitting across from his old friend, Sam briefly glanced at Joe, praying they had gotten to Frank in time. The look on Joe's face told him if that wasn't the case, it could very well be the last straw for Joe. While they rarely worked together anymore, he and Fenton spoke often, as good friends do, so he was aware of everything Joe had endured the past six months. He was also well aware of the fact that Frank was the reason Joe had made it this far with his sanity in tact.

Fenton had repeatedly expressed his relief that Frank would be by Joe's side when it came time for Keith Rashman and Dennis Malick to be brought to trial, knowing Joe might not have the mental or emotional strength to make it through even one trial without his brother's unwavering support. Taking a deep breath, Sam began to tell them of Gloria Sansom's quest for "justice".

"As I mentioned earlier, Gloria Sansom made a complete confession. She felt the police and the criminal justice system let her down. And we did. The fact that her son's assailant got off without so much as a slap on the wrist pushed her over the edge. She just hid it very well.

"Apparently in her grief, she felt that if her son no longer had the 'gift' he was born with – in his case an IQ that was practically off the charts – that any others born on the same day who happened to be gifted in any way, should also lose their gifts. Somehow, in her mind, that would equate to justice for her son.

"Being a nurse at Lenox Hill Hospital, she had easy access to the records. It was a simple matter of doing a little research on everyone who had been born on the same day as her son. She singled out the five others she considered to be gifted and set out to take away whatever special talent they had."

Fenton and Joe remained silent, listening and absorbing every detail as Sam put together a bizarre tale of the depths – and distortions – of a mother's love for her child.

"In the first case, Kent Graham, it was simply a matter of shattering the bones in his hands to the point it would be impossible to repair the damage. The next three required surgical procedures, which she was quite capable of having spent most of her career as an O.R. nurse." Sam stopped, shaking his head almost in disbelief. "You know she made a point of making sure I understood that she didn't cause them any other harm, doing only what was needed to _'relieve them of their gifts.'_ Like she should get some kind of award for being so compassionate."

"What about the emotional and mental harm? How do they adjust? How do they accept what's happened to them? They're only twenty-four years old, for God's sake! They've got their whole lives ahead of them!" Fenton said bitterly, knowing if Gloria succeeded in her plans for Frank, _Joe_ would be the one who would have to accept and adjust – something Fenton was certain would be impossible. Recalling how distraught Frank had been in Chicago when they'd first found Joe near death, he wondered again if life wouldn't be a little easier for his sons if they weren't quite so close.

Glancing at Joe, he quickly realized how wrong he was. If Frank and Joe weren't so close he knew Joe might still be trapped in a world of darkness, with the Campbell Psychiatric Center as his permanent home.

"So she probably won't even go to prison for this," Joe said, finally speaking. "If she really thought what she was doing was justified, she's crazy." He looked at Sam, his eyes begging for Sam to tell him he was wrong.

Sam reached out and patted Joe on the knee, smiling sadly. "Maybe not, Joe. She was cognizant and aware enough to try and frame her husband, so on some level she knew what she was doing was wrong. She made sure that all the attacks took place on nights her husband wasn't working. He stuck to the same routine every day, which she knew by heart.

"Every night, after visiting their son, he'd go home and have dinner. Afterwards he'd have a few beers while watching TV, until he fell asleep on the couch. She confessed that she put a sedative in his beer to make sure he wouldn't wake up. That way he had no alibi. She used his car, even though she had access to her son's car, to further implicate him should we be able to come up with any evidence pointing to her. He was so bitter after the trial and made no attempt to hide it, that she knew it would be a natural assumption for us to think he was behind the attacks."

"And we all fell for it," Fenton said disgustedly, then turned to his youngest son, pride shining in his eyes. "Except for Joe, thank God."

Sam nodded his agreement before continuing. "Gloria said the first night she tried to abduct Frank, she never expected to fail. He was the last one and since she had gotten away with the other attacks, she had let her guard down somewhat. When Joe came back and eventually went after her, she panicked. She wasn't familiar with Bayport and couldn't find her way back to the Interstate. She ended up downtown with Joe right on her tail. That led to Joe getting the partial plate which in turn took us right to her husband's doorstep." Sam looked at Joe feeling almost as proud as Fenton. "If not for you, Joe, she would have gotten away with all of it. This would have been one of those cases that was never solved."

"Thanks," Joe mumbled. Being the one who broke the case wide open would mean absolutely nothing to Joe, if it turned out his brother spent the rest of his life imprisoned in the mind of a child. Leaning back, Joe rested his head against the wall closing his eyes.

"I feel at least partially responsible for all this, Fenton. It was my department that screwed up. I know it was an honest mistake, but…I'm so sorry." Sam looked at Fenton, the reality of it all suddenly hitting him full force.

"Don't, Sam. Gloria decided to do this all on her own," Fenton reassured him, before turning to Joe and putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm going to step outside and call your mother." When Joe responded with just a slight nod, Fenton looked at Sam with worry.

Reading the look in his friend's eyes, Sam nodded, indicating he would sit with Joe until Fenton returned. About ten minutes later, Fenton came back into the waiting room, suddenly looking much older than his years. Sam noted a slight redness in his eyes, indicating Fenton hadn't been able to contain his emotions as well as he wanted to. Just as he took his seat next to Joe, a middle-aged man, with graying hair, wearing a white lab coat appeared in the waiting room.

"Mr. Hardy?"

"Yes," Fenton replied, starting to rise. He saw Joe's head immediately snap forward.

"Please, don't get up." The pulled up a chair and extended his hand. "Dr. Jonathan Bowles. Head of Emergency Services."

"How is he?" Joe asked, his eyes hopeful. "Is he awake yet?"

Fenton shook the doctor's hand introducing himself. "This is my younger son, Joe," he said, resting his arm on Joe's back.

"Hello, Joe." The doctor offered his hand. "I'm afraid your brother hasn't regained consciousness just yet. He's still having intermittent seizures although the frequency and severity has decreased significantly."

"Isn't there anything you can do to stop them?" Fenton asked, slightly alarmed. He'd hoped that once Frank arrived at the hospital, the seizures would end.

"Yes, and we are doing that, but seizures associated with serum theophylline overdoses are often resistant to therapy. Because of the high morbidity and mortality associated with theophylline-induced seizures, they do have to be brought under control quickly. Treatment needs to be rapid and aggressive. But there are also significant risks associated with the treatment that you should be aware of.

"The doses of Phenobarbital required to stop the seizures are close to the doses that can cause severe respiratory depression or respiratory arrest. With that in mind, we have Frank on a heart monitor and a respiratory technician will remain with him at all times to provide assisted ventilation if need be. "

With his arm still resting on Joe's back, Fenton could feel that Joe had begun to tremble.

'_Please, God, let him be all right.' _Fenton prayed for his first-born._ ' If we lose Frank, Joe will never recover. I can't lose both my sons. Please…'_

"Unfortunately, serum theophylline concentrations can continue to increase even after treatment is started, which is why Frank is continuing to have seizures. In addition to the respiratory technician, we have a nurse monitoring Frank's condition. As soon as a seizure begins, she administers an anti-convulsant via syringe to stop it as quickly as possible."

'_It's a dream,'_ Joe told himself, trying to stave off what he was certain would be an emotional meltdown. _'A nightmare. I'll wake up soon. Vanessa will be right beside me, telling me to go back to sleep. Everyone is fine…'_

"The concentration of serum theophylline in Frank's system was measured immediately upon arrival. We will continue to monitor it every two to four hours, to guide our treatment decisions and to assess the effectiveness of therapy. Since we're not sure how long the concentration of theophylline may continue to increase, we'll be checking the levels regularly until it's clear that the concentration is no longer rising and has returned to non-toxic levels."

Taking another look at Joe, Fenton noticed he had paled considerably.

"Multiple doses of orally activated charcoal will also help clear the theophylline out of Frank's system. However it must be retained in, and pass through, the gastrointestinal tract to be effective, so we are administering it continuously through a nasogastric tube." The doctor sat back, looking from Fenton to Joe. "Now, what questions do you have for me?"

"Do you know if the treatment was started quickly enough to avoid any…damage?" Fenton asked, cautiously.

"Since it was rapidly determined that theophylline had been used on Frank, the EMT's were able to start anticonvulsant therapy immediately. Hopefully, that means there won't be any permanent brain damage."

Fenton slid his arm around Joe's shoulders and squeezed, as he felt his son flinch at the words _"permanent brain damage"._

"When will you know for sure?" Fenton asked.

"Assuming there's no permanent damage, he should be waking up sometime in the morning. He'll be extremely tired, probably feel exhausted, as if he's just run a marathon. But a few days of bed rest and he'll be good as new."

"And what if he doesn't wake up by morning?" Joe asked softly, fearing the answer.

Dr. Bowles hesitated a moment, seeing the apprehension reflected in Joe's eyes. "If he hasn't regained consciousness by noon we'll start running some neurological tests to determine the severity of brain damage."

"Thank you, Dr. Bowles," Fenton said, correctly assuming Joe had heard all he could take in one sitting.

"If you think of anything else, just ask the receptionist to find me." The doctor stood and returned to the emergency room. Sensing they needed some time to absorb everything Dr. Bowles had said, Sam discreetly excused himself.

As soon as they were alone, Joe buried his face in his father's shoulder and cried.


	26. Chapter 26

Thank you to Helen, Miss Fenway, AZ Writer, MissMe113, Polaris, Iola, josie, No1butjoe, Calathiel and pally for the reviews! :-) Hope you all had a great holiday!

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 26**

Vanessa sat in the waiting room surveying everyone around her. Callie sat directly across from her, Mr. and Mrs. Shaw on either side of their daughter, holding her hands, occasionally stroking her hair. Callie stared straight ahead, almost in a daze, seeing nothing at all. Her pretty features were streaked with makeup from the tears she had cried, until she had none left.

Glancing to her right, Vanessa took in Laura and Fenton Hardy, looking more devastated than she could ever recall seeing them. They hadn't spoken a word in over an hour, leaving her very scared. Normally, when waiting for word on one of their injured sons, Laura and Fenton would talk softly between themselves, drawing support from each other. Occasionally, they would offer words of hope to others who gathered for the vigil. Tonight, however, they had remained uncharacteristically silent, leaving Vanessa terrified for them, for Joe and especially for Frank.

Her sad, grey eyes moved only inches, coming to rest on the figure next to her and her heart broke just a little bit more. Joe was sitting there, motionless, his head resting on her shoulder, one of her hands grasped tightly in both of his. His intense, deep blue eyes that normally sparkled with mischief were staring at something only he could see, dead and lifeless. Vanessa found she was more scared for Joe than for anyone. Normally, he would be pacing a hole in the floor, unable to remain still for even a second, harassing the hospital staff, demanding an update on his brother's condition every few minutes.

This time was very different. When she, Laura, Callie and the Shaws had arrived shortly after Fenton's phone call, Joe had quickly taken Vanessa outside to a secluded area near the entrance to the E.R. He had somehow been able to explain to her what the madwoman had done to Frank, choking back tears, until he finally collapsed in her arms, sobbing for his older brother.

Vanessa didn't know how, but she had been able to remain strong for Joe, shedding a few tears that he thankfully didn't see. When his heart wrenching cries had ceased, she gently led him back to the waiting area, sitting him down next to his mother. He had immediately curled up next to Vanessa, his head on her shoulder, and hadn't moved or spoken since.

And so they sat, keeping vigil, as Vanessa continually ran her fingers through Joe's hair, a gesture she knew he always found comfort in. Occasionally she would kiss him gently, reminding him of her presence and that he wasn't alone, but they never spoke. No one ever spoke as if to break the sacred sound of silence would bring about the bad news they prayed would never come.

Dr. Bowles had come out once more to update them on Frank's condition. They had chosen to continue treating him in the Emergency Room, waiting until they were absolutely sure the seizures had stopped before transferring him to a room. That had been several hours ago and although it had not been said aloud everyone knew, the longer it took for Frank to be moved into a room, the greater the chance of some kind of permanent brain damage.

As the first shades of morning gray began to peek through the windows, Joe sat up, and looked at Vanessa. Wordlessly, he got up and tugged on her hand, indicating he wanted her to join him, wherever he was going. Looking around she noticed everyone else seemed to have fallen into a restless sleep, so she silently followed Joe out of the waiting room. He stopped at the reception desk and murmured a question Vanessa didn't quite hear, but when the young woman pointed down the hall, she assumed Joe had asked for directions to somewhere. Still holding tightly to her hand, Joe led Vanessa through a set of double doors and down to the end of the hall where they entered the hospital chapel, which at this time of the morning was deserted.

Joe walked to the middle of the room before choosing a row and walking halfway in before taking a seat, Vanessa right beside him. Initially, Joe simply stared straight ahead, not speaking, the listlessness in his eyes replaced with a faraway look she couldn't quite place. Soon Joe turned to her, his eyes now questioning.

"Why?" he whispered. "Why did this happen?"

Vanessa's heart stopped for a second as she wondered if Joe really expected her to have an answer or if he were just trying to put his emotions into words. "Is this God's way of telling me I took too long to give Frank another chance? That I took too long to trust him again? That I took him for granted and I really don't deserve him? Is that why all this is happening?"

Her decision to remain silent and simply listen was quickly pushed aside. "No, Baby, that's not it. And even though I can't tell you why this happened, I truly believe, with all my heart that everything happens for a reason. Sometimes the reasons just aren't apparent to us right away. But I do know, if God wanted to send you a message, He wouldn't hurt Frank to do it," Vanessa replied earnestly.

Joe glanced back towards the front of the chapel again, thinking about what she said and finally nodded in agreement. "The other night when Frank and I talked, I was…confused about a lot of things. I knew he could make sense out of everything for me. And I knew it was time…you know, to give him a chance. To trust him again." When Joe turned back to Vanessa, she saw both joy and despair in his eyes. "And he didn't let me down. He believed in me even when I couldn't believe in myself. There are so many things I need to tell him, to talk to him about. Things he promised to help me with. I still need him, Van."

"I know you do," Vanessa said softly. "Since we're here, why don't we say a little prayer? Why don't we ask for help? For Frank. And for the doctors and nurses. They're doing everything they can for Frank, but sometimes they need a little help too."

Holding tightly to each other's hands, Joe and Vanessa each said their own little prayer before quietly leaving the chapel and returning to the waiting room.

As they passed the entrance to the Emergency Room, Dr. Bowles came walking out right in front of them.

"Dr. Bowles?" Joe called out. "What's happened? Is something wrong?" he asked, the anxiety he was feeling clearly written all over his face.

"Actually, Frank has stabilized and we're getting ready to move him into a room. I was just on my way to tell your parents." The doctor fell into step next to Joe and Vanessa who quickened their pace.

As soon as the threesome entered the waiting room, everyone was instantly on their feet, preparing for the worst but hoping for the best.

"The seizures have stopped and Frank's condition has stabilized," Dr. Bowles announced. "We're preparing to move him to a private room. He'll still be monitored closely via machines, but we feel he's improved enough that the nurse and respiratory technician no longer need to remain with him." He waited for the sighs of relief to subside before continuing. "While that's obviously good news, there's still a long way to go yet. We still don't know whether or not Frank has suffered any permanent brain damage and if so how much."

"When will you know?" Callie asked, wedged between her parents for both physical and emotional support.

"The best case scenario, and the one that we are hoping for, is that Frank will regain consciousness sometime in the next four or five hours. If that happens, we can be fairly certain he'll make a complete recovery with no permanent damage."

"And what if that doesn't happen?" Fenton asked the question nobody wanted the answer to.

"Then we'll have to start testing to see how severe the damage is," Dr. Bowles replied quietly.

"Can we see him?" Callie asked.

"Yes. Once we get him moved to the room, you can see him one at a time. And I would encourage you to talk to him. All of you. He may recognize your voices which could help push him in the right direction." Taking in the looks of hope on their faces, he smiled. "He'll be in room 428. Give us about twenty minutes and then you can start to visit with him."

As Callie huddled with her parents and Fenton and Laura once again turned to each other for comfort, Joe pulled Vanessa aside. Looking into his eyes, Vanessa saw hope.

"Van…do you think…I mean…was it just a coincidence that this all happened right after we came out of the chapel?" Joe asked, cautiously. "Do you think our prayers…"

"Were answered?" Vanessa finished for him. "What is it your Dad always says about coincidences?"

"There's no such thing," Joe replied, allowing himself the tiniest of smiles.

Putting her arms around him, Vanessa pulled Joe close to her, giving him the reassurance and support he needed. Silently, she prayed that Fenton Hardy was right.


	27. Chapter 27

Thank you so much for the reviews. They are very much appreciated! :-)

Sorry for the delay. I meant to post this yesterday but the day just got away from me!

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 27**

Callie sat next to the bed staring at her husband, still trying to adjust to the stunning swiftness of events that had brought them here. Since Frank's condition had stabilized, he had only one IV leading into his arm, all the other machines and tubes having been removed save for the heart monitor. Other than looking a little pale, anyone would think Frank was simply sleeping.

Holding Frank's hand, Callie thought back to the night they had talked about their future children. She smiled wistfully, recalling the 'awe' in Frank's voice when he'd said he wanted a daughter – a little girl. Had that really been less than forty-eight hours ago?

Listening to the soft, continuous beep of the heart monitor, Callie was lulled into the daydream that was seared into her memory, every detail etched in her mind. It had been a week before her sixteenth birthday, the beginning of her sophomore year at Bayport High. She had just finished getting the books she needed out of her locker and started walking to her next class, when she had come to a sudden stop. Even now when she remembered that moment, she could feel her cheeks get warm and her heart start to beat a little faster, just as it had done on that day – the very first time she had seen Frank Hardy.

He had been leaning against a wall with Joe, Chet and Biff, laughing and talking. No, she corrected herself. Joe had been talking, relating a story complete with sound effects, wild gestures and exaggerated facial expressions, to Frank, their friends and anyone else who stopped to listen. Frank had been listening quietly, watching his younger brother with amusement, smiling that smile Callie had rapidly fallen in love with.

She often thought of that as the luckiest day of her life. When a passing student announced rather loudly that it was impolite to stare, Callie had quickly snapped out of her daze and hurried to science class, hoping Frank hadn't noticed her staring at him. As she said a little prayer that she might run into him again, she felt her heart begin to race once more as her prayers were answered with astonishing quickness. Looking up, she saw Frank walk through the door and take a seat near the front of the room. When the teacher began selecting pairs of students at random and she ended up with Frank as her lab partner for the entire year, she was convinced fate was trying to tell her something.

Callie laughed softly, remembering how it had taken Frank over a month to ask her out, even though she had done everything but hit him over the head with a sledgehammer to let him know she was interested in him. It wasn't until their freshman year in college that she found out what had taken him so long. Although Frank had been infatuated with her from the day they met, he was too shy to ask her out. It was only after several weeks of prodding, coaching and encouragement from Joe, who by that time had already dated his way through a large number of girls in the freshman and sophomore classes himself, that Frank finally worked up the nerve to ask Callie for out. And they had been together ever since.

"Do you remember that, Frank?" Callie said quietly, squeezing his hand. "We went to the movies. You were so nervous you dropped the popcorn in my lap and spilled your soda all over the floor." She laughed softly. "You were my first date. My first kiss. My first…everything.

"I never told you this but during our senior year, my parents wanted me to see other people. They were concerned that we had gotten so serious and neither one of us had ever really dated anyone else. Mom kept insisting I needed to date other guys before I would know if what we had was real." Callie shook her head, recalling some of the horrendous fights she'd had with her mother that year. They usually ended with slamming doors and flowing tears. "But I didn't need to go out with anyone else. I _knew_ you were the one."

Reaching out, Callie gently ran a hand over Frank's cheek. "You have to come back to me, Frank. I've never thanked you for all the things you've taught me. Like how to share. Being an only child, I never really had to share anything – until you. Do you have any idea how jealous I was of Joe back then? Of having to share you with him?" She laughed about it now, but at the time she was certain her resentment of Joe was justified. "But you taught me how. And later on you taught me again, when you shared Joe with me.

"I always thought that when I did have children, one would be enough. But you showed me how wrong I was. I want our children to know the joy and learn the compromise that comes with having brothers and sisters. I want them to share that same unbreakable bond that you and Joe have.

"I can't teach them those things, Frank. _You_ have to do it. You have to come back. We still have all those hopes and dreams and plans to fulfill. Children. Grandchildren. You promised me those things and I'm holding you to it. I refuse to live the rest of my life without you, so you have no choice but to come back to me."

Checking her watch, Callie sighed heavily. As much as Laura, Fenton and especially Joe had wanted to see Frank once he'd been brought to a room, they had insisted she go first. She'd been sitting with Frank for over an hour and as much as she hated to leave, she knew she had to. Standing up, Callie leaned down and gently pressed her lips to Frank's. She gazed at him a moment longer, then turned and left the room.

oooOOOooo

Joe sat on the chair, staring at his older brother, still in a mild state of shock. Still having a hard time believing this had happened. Still unable to fully comprehend that when Frank woke up he might be trapped…forever.

'_Five years old?'_

Joe shook his head. He could barely remember back that far. Had Frank _ever_ been five years old? Even Joe's earliest memories of Frank were of the strong, smart, dependable big brother who always looked out for him. From kindergarten, through elementary school, into junior high and high school – even college – Frank had always known just when Joe needed him. Most of the time, Joe never even had to ask. And Frank still had the uncanny ability to seemingly appear out of nowhere, knowing exactly what to say or do to put Joe's world back on it's axis whenever it started to spin out of control.

Would Frank still be able to do that when he woke up? Or would Joe now be forced to look out for his brother in some bizarre role reversal gone wrong? If…_when_…Frank awoke, would he really be held captive in the mind of a five-year-old, leaving Joe to stumble through the rest of his life without the brother he depended so heavily on?

"You can't, Frank. You can't do that. Sometimes you're the only one who can keep me sane; the only one who can pull me back when I start to go off the deep end. Which seems to be happening a lot more often these days. Besides, you haven't earned my trust back yet. And you said you'd listen, when I was ready to talk. You said you'd help me work through…everything. You _promised_."

Despite the doctor's advice to talk to Frank, Joe found he couldn't bring himself to do it, knowing he might never get a response; might never hear his brother's voice again, telling him to be careful, teasing him, joking with him… As Joe got up to leave, he heard Frank's words in the back of his mind.

_"I like the partner I have now just fine. I don't want a new one."_

"Neither do I, big brother. Neither do I," Joe said softly, then turned and left the room.

oooOOOooo

Laura Hardy sat next to her oldest son, holding his hand talking softly to him. Lately it seemed, Joe had been the one in a hospital bed, with his family hovering worriedly, praying for a swift and complete recovery. During those times, Frank had been the one reminding everyone of Joe's fighting spirit and never say die attitude, convincing all of them he would pull through just fine. And Frank had been right every time. Frank had always been Joe's cheerleader, his champion, his protector… Suddenly Laura was transported back in time sixteen years.

_She was sitting on a bench in the park, watching eight-year-old Frank and seven-year-old Joe each playing with their friends. They had broken off into two little groups, yet every few minutes Frank would glance over his shoulder at his little brother, making sure he was okay._

_A woman seated next to Laura had struck up a conversation with her. She didn't know the woman's name although Laura had seen her at the park before with her own three children. As they spoke, a child's cry split the air and Laura was on her feet in an instant, recognizing Joe's voice. Instinctively, she turned towards the group of children taking a few steps despite knowing it would be in vain. As always, Frank had beaten her to Joe's side and was now comforting his younger brother, drying Joe's tears and making everything right in Joe's world once more._

_Laura fought the tightening in her chest and the feeling that rose up out of nowhere whenever this happened. She had noticed it more and more lately but it had only been a few days earlier when she realized, shamefully, what it was. She was jealous. She knew it was utterly ridiculous yet she couldn't help it – she was jealous of Frank._

_When the boys were younger, Joe __always__ ran to Laura for comfort and protection. Yet as they grew and became a little more self-sufficient, Joe began to turn to his older brother more and more. Laura felt as if she were being shut out of her youngest son's life and even though she knew her fears and feelings were totally irrational, she couldn't stop them. _

_Her eyes burned with tears she prayed wouldn't fall as her baby sought solace in his older brother, ignoring her once again. Fighting for self-control, she became aware of the other woman's voice._

_"You should be very proud of them. Their closeness is every parent's dream."_

_Laura listened intently and couldn't believe the undertone she heard in the woman's voice. It was…jealousy. Laura returned to her seat on the bench, her eyes still on her sons, but giving frequent glances to the woman next to her._

_"The relationship those boys have is unheard of. I've never seen anything like it before in my life." The woman sighed heavily. "Half the time my older son is the one who inflicts pain on his little brother and sister. If that had just happen between my boys, Kevin would have been the first one laughing at David and teasing him for being a baby." The woman turned to face Laura and quirked an eyebrow. "Wanna trade kids for a week or so? Maybe you can work your magic on mine too."_

_Laura stared, forcing her jaw not to drop open. Frank would never, __ever__ laugh at Joe maliciously and if Frank __did__ tease him, they both knew it was good-natured fun. Laura was certain it would be impossible for Frank to purposely hurt his younger brother for any reason. She bit back a smile, suddenly remembering the phone call she'd gotten after Joe's first day of kindergarten. That night Fenton had to sit Frank down and explain to him why he couldn't beat up the entire school in defense of his little brother. It was only a few days later that they enrolled Frank in martial arts classes._

_As the woman continued her glowing commentary on the very special bond between Frank and Joe, Laura realized she had been looking at the growing relationship between her sons from the wrong perspective. That woman had been the one to make Laura see she wasn't "losing" Joe to Frank, but rather gaining an ally, someone she could count on unequivocally to protect Joe at all costs – just as she would…for both her sons._

"I never told anyone about those few months, Frank, when I was so jealous of you. I've thanked God so many times in my life for letting me cross paths with that woman. But more importantly, I've thanked God every single day for giving me a son as wonderful as you. I certainly don't deserve you, but I am so grateful.

"And I am so sorry for ever feeling that way. I hope you never sensed it, sweetie. Although I think if you did, you probably would have forgiven me for it. You, more than anyone, showed me how to love unconditionally by the way you treated your brother." Leaning forward, Laura brushed an errant lock of hair out of Frank's eyes. "He still needs you, Frank. He'll only share so much with your father and I. Even Vanessa. But there are some things…things that haunt him deeply…that he will only share with you. So if you come back, and help him get rid of those demons…I promise I won't be jealous."

Laura stood and kissed her son's forehead gently. "I love you, Baby." With an ache in her heart that only a mother could understand, she walked out of the room.

oooOOOooo

Staring at his son, a mirror image of himself, Fenton Hardy suddenly found himself choking back a sob as the reality of it all hit him with stunning force. Alone in the room with his beloved first-born, he no longer had to be strong for anyone.

"Frank…" he whispered, reaching out and gently brushing a hand across his son's cheek.

Fenton felt oddly lost and it took him several moments to figure out why. Whenever he was down or depressed, Fenton had always turned to Joe, his golden child, whose outgoing personality, infectious laughter and ability to find the humor in almost anything never failed to put smile back on his face. But at times like these, Frank had always been his rock, his source of strength. Whenever Fenton was close to the breaking point, as he was now, Frank was the one he relied on to pull him through, or to take care of Laura and Joe until Fenton could sort things out on his own.

How many times had Frank been the glue that held their family together when Fenton was on the verge of collapse? When Joe had been on trial for murder and started to remember the trauma he'd suffered as a child, Fenton had made more than one decision in error regarding Joe. Yet, Frank had been the one to bail him out, being the father Joe had desperately needed when Fenton was incapable of it. Recalling the dark days when Joe had been admitted to the Campbell Psychiatric Center and Fenton wasn't sure if he'd ever see his bright, bubbly son again, he had immediately turned to Frank to make things right. As always, his older son did not let him down and brought Joe back from hell. It wasn't until months later that Fenton came to understand the amount of pressure he'd put on Frank at the time, pinning every hope and prayer for Joe's recovery on him. And, Frank hadn't even batted an eyelash at his father's expectations. Always the trooper, Frank had simply done as he was asked.

"I never thanked you," Fenton said as a few tears slid from his eyes. "You brought my little boy back and I never even thanked you. God, what kind of father am I? Expecting you to do my job, and never even expressing my gratitude when you do. Especially when you do it better than I do."

Thinking back on Frank's childhood, Fenton realized he'd begun treating Frank almost as an equal very early on. Whether it was Frank's "old soul" spirit, or Joe's almost constant need for supervision Fenton wasn't sure, but at some point Frank took on many of Fenton's duties within the family.

'_And I took it all for granted. Did I ever let you be a child? Or did I always expect you to look out for Joe and your mother whenever I was gone – even when you still needed someone to look out for you?'_

Fenton realized he'd always thought of Frank as an adult trapped in a child's body. And now in some warped twist of fate, Frank could conceivably end up as a child trapped in adult's body. Leaning over the safety rail of the bed, Fenton looked down on the son who'd always been his pillar of strength.

"I have so much to say to you, so much to make up to you, so much to thank you for. And I still need you. So I'm going to ask you one more time, don't let me down, son. Come back to us, Frank." Fenton stared at his son a moment longer. Rising from the chair, he drew in a quivering breath, then turned and left.

oooOOOooo

Vanessa pulled the chair up close to the bed, resting her forearms on the rail. "Hey, Frank. You know the doctor said we should talk to you, that maybe you'd recognize our voices. So, if you get tired of listening to me, you're just gonna to have to wake up and tell me to be quiet.

"You know I always loved being an only child. I never felt like I was missing out by not having brothers or sisters. In fact, I felt sorry for my friends who _did_ have siblings. I never understood what was so great about it until I met Joe…and you." Vanessa shifted in the chair a little, smiling at the memories of her life since she had encountered the Hardys.

"I had no idea that when I fell in love with Joe you came along as part of the package, but I'm glad you did. You accepted me right away as a part of Joe's life, even though I thought you were pretty weird back then." Vanessa laughed softly, thinking of those first few days after she had met Joe in the parking lot of Bayport High School. "Oh, let's face it, Frank. You're still weird sometimes. But that's part of your charm. It didn't take long for you to go from being the brother of the guy I loved to my surrogate big brother. And I'll never be able to thank you for that.

"You've always been there for Joe. And for me, too. I know neither one of us would have made it through the last six months without you." Vanessa shuddered thinking of those first few days in Chicago when she leaned so heavily on Frank for support. "We put up a good front, but sometimes we're just not as tough as everyone thinks we are." Vanessa stood up looking down on Frank with tears in her eyes.

"I _know_ Joe will always be there to pick up the pieces when my world falls apart. Sometimes I take that for granted and forget he's going through hell too. I count on you to get him through that hell, Frank. He's ready to trust you again. Please don't let him down." Leaning over the rail, Vanessa kissed Frank on the cheek, then turned and left the room.


	28. Chapter 28

Thank you to everyone for the reviews! :-) Hope you all have a great New Year and a safe, happy and prosperous 2009!! :D

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 28**

Joe slowly opened his eyes, surprised he'd actually been able to fall asleep for a little while. Glancing around the waiting room, he saw his parents, Callie and the Shaws, had also given in to exhaustion. Lifting his head, he saw Vanessa, also asleep, holding onto him tightly. Gently, Joe unwrapped Vanessa's arms from around him and got up.

"Joe…" she murmured his name.

"Shhh. Go back to sleep." He smoothed her hair and kissed her lightly.

Making his way down the hall, Joe pushed the door open and entered Frank's room, his eyes filling with tears almost immediately. Lost. Joe had never felt so lost and alone in his entire life. He stared at his older brother, an emptiness filling his heart. Frank wasn't supposed to be like this. Frank was the strong one. The one who had always protected Joe and looked out for him for as far back as Joe could remember.

Joe recalled his first day of kindergarten. He'd been so excited to be starting school with his brother, not understanding they would be separated as soon as they arrived. When Joe had been taken by the hand and led away, he'd been terrified and cried most of the morning, wanting desperately to be back in his older brother's shadow where he felt safe. His tears had resulted in merciless teasing from a few of the other boys, making Joe feel even worse. When the horrible day was finally over, Joe was flooded with relief to find his brother waiting just outside the classroom for him.

Seeing Joe's sad, tearstained face, Frank immediately demanded to know why he was so upset. As Joe poured his heart out, the boys who had teased him stood a few feet away, snickering. Frank had sent Joe back into the classroom to wait, telling Joe he would take care of it. Several moments later, Frank returned and the two brothers made their way home. To this day, Joe still didn't know exactly what had happened but he was never bothered by the pint-sized bullies, or anyone else, ever again.

Standing there, Joe couldn't even imagine life without the brother he worshipped. The one he admired, looked up to and emulated. The one he aspired to be like. The one he never wanted to let down. The one who had never let him down when it _really_ mattered. In the past six months alone, Frank had been by Joe's side in the absolute worst moments of his life.

When Vanessa had been raped, when Joe had been on trial for murder, when childhood trauma had come flooding back, sending Joe spinning into darkness as he tried to flee from reality, and again when Vanessa had been kidnapped, Frank was there through it all. When Joe had been abducted and tortured by Keith Rashman, Frank never slept and barely ate until Joe had been found and was receiving the medical care he needed.

Only a week later, as Carlos Sanchez questioned Joe for hours and hours, forcing him to relive the painful ordeal, Frank sat right next to him. When Joe thought briefly of turning to drugs in an effort to escape the physical pain and mental anguish he was in, it was Frank who had used a little "tough love" to get Joe to understand the dangers of what he was doing. Frank had never let Joe take on anything alone. Frank had always pulled him back to safety whenever Joe found himself wandering down the wrong path after making a rash decision.

Thinking back to the night in the park, Joe subconsciously clutched his left arm, pulling it close to his body. Memories of the painful abuse he'd suffered at the hands of Keith Rashman flooded back to him.

"You said you'd help me," Joe whispered, looking at his brother's pale, drawn features. "You told me you'd be there for me; you'd listen when I needed to talk."

Joe suddenly thought of the upcoming trial when he would have to return to Chicago and relive the torture and abuse in agonizing detail, not once but twice. Frank had promised to be by Joe's side through it all. He promised Joe would not have to endure it alone.

"You promised. You said you'd be right there with me." Joe's voice rose slightly, as he began to tremble. "You told me I wouldn't have to do it alone!" he cried out, unable to stop the irrational anger that quickly took hold of him. "You lied to me!" Joe squeezed his eyes shut, as if it could block out the nightmare. "You _lied_!!"

Lost in his own grief, certain he would never again see the brother he depended on to bail him out no matter what, Joe didn't notice the rhythm of the heart monitor increase. He didn't see the slight movement of Frank's head or his eyes open and close several times before finally opening and focusing on Joe.

"Joe…" Frank's voice was barely a whisper.

Joe gasped. Looking up, he found himself staring into Frank's deep brown eyes, now looking at Joe with confusion. He scrambled to his brother's side. "Frank! You're awake!!"

"Joe…" Frank repeated a little bit louder.

"What?" Joe asked excitedly.

Frank grimaced. "I…I want…"

"What is it? What do want?" Joe said, eager to do anything to help his brother.

Frank scowled. "I want you…to…shut up. You're giving me a headache."

Collapsing in the chair next to the bed, Joe broke out into laughter that quickly gave way to a flood of tears as he bowed his head and rested it on the bed rail, unable to stop crying.

Ever the protective older brother, Frank reached out gingerly, resting his hand on top of Joe's head. Extremely confused, he wasn't quite sure what had Joe so upset but he knew, instinctively, that he could make it better, just as he always did.

"It's okay, Joe. Everything will be okay." Having exhausted what little strength he had, Frank closed his eyes.

Sniffling, Joe raised his head. "Frank?" he said, tentatively, then shook his brother's shoulder violently, terrified he had imagined everything. "Frank!"

"What?" Frank mumbled, irritated. "I'm tired, Joe. Let me sleep." His head lolled to the side.

Joe simply stared for several minutes, sending out a silent thank you, grateful beyond words that his prayers had been answered. Finally satisfied that Frank really _had_ awakened, really had recognized him and spoken to him, responding to his questions, Joe calmed down slightly. He stood up, wanting to tell his parents the good news. Turning, Joe literally ran from the room. His brother was back and he couldn't wait to share the happy news with the rest of the world.


	29. Chapter 29

YAY!!! It's finally 2009!!! I had a lousy 2008 so I was very happy to see that year end. LOL! I intend to have an awesome 2009 and I hope everyone else does too!! :D

As always, thank you SO MUCH for the reviews! :-) Only one more chapter left after this one.

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 29**

"Mom! Dad!! He's awake!" Joe exclaimed running into the waiting area. Laura and Fenton were on their feet in an instant, crowding their youngest son.

"He's awake?!" Callie rushed to Joe's side, praying she'd heard him correctly.

"Yes! Yes!!" Joe cried out, grabbing Callie and pulling her into a hug so tight she could barely breathe.

"Mmphf!" Callie tried to protest the almost painful embrace but was stifled as Joe held her tightly to his chest. Finally able to push him back a few inches, Callie looked up at him and knew she hadn't misheard. Joe looked just like a kid on Christmas morning whose every wish had come true.

"He's awake?" Callie repeated, breathlessly. "You're sure?"

"Yes!! He's awake! Well, not now. Now he's sleeping. But he was awake! Before he fell asleep!" Joe replied as the words came tumbling out in a jubilant rush.

Vanessa laughed at his uncontrolled enthusiasm.

Releasing Callie, Joe took a few steps and stood in front of his fiancée. "He's back, Van," Joe said quietly, his eyes shining, the smile never leaving his face.

Vanessa held out her arms and encircled Joe, holding him tightly as he was suddenly overwhelmed by all the emotions he'd been trying to keep inside for the past twelve hours. Several moments later, he pulled away.

"Thanks, Babe." He smiled at her, punctuating it with a kiss.

"Honey?" Laura tapped Joe on the shoulder.

Joe turned to his mother and saw concern still evident in her eyes.

"You said he woke up," Laura began, afraid to ask the question that was nagging at her, knowing she couldn't survive another disappointment. "But did he recognize you? Did he respond to you? Did he say anything at all?"

Joe realized his mother was worried that even though Frank had finally awakened, he still might have suffered permanent brain damage as a result of the drugs that had invaded his system.

"Oh, yeah." Joe gave them a huge grin. "He told me to shut up."

Laughter erupted from everyone as Laura leaned heavily against her husband, smiling with relief. "Thank God."

"Well, I see Joe has shared the good news with everyone." Dr. Bowles voice carried through the room.

"Have you seen him? Is he going to be all right?" Callie asked the doctor anxiously.

"I just left him. Understandably, he's exhausted. We're preparing to run some tests on him but based on our short conversation I think I can safely say he'll make a full recovery." Dr. Bowles smiled at the sighs of relief and murmurs of thanks. "The tests will probably take a few hours and I'm sure he'll be pretty tired afterwards. If you'd like to go home and get some rest, something to eat, he should be ready for visitors by the time you get back."

"Thank you, Doctor." Mr. Shaw shook the man's hand, then turned to his daughter. "Come on, honey. Let's get you home for a few hours of sleep." He hugged Callie tightly.

Callie nodded a little sadly. She had wanted to be there when Frank awoke, although if it couldn't have been her she was at least glad it was Joe who was with him. Realizing how much she had to be grateful for, Callie smiled and accompanied her parents out of the hospital.

Turning to Joe, Vanessa wrapped an arm around his waist. "I bet you could use a few hours of sleep, too." She kissed him on the cheek. "Let's go home."

oooOOOooo

Frank opened his eyes, slowly looking around the room. His gaze finally came to rest on his father who was sitting in a chair next to the bed, smiling at him.

"Welcome back," Fenton said. "We missed you."

"Thanks. I'm glad to be back." Frank used the remote control to raise the head of the bed slightly.

Fenton stood to help Frank arrange the pillows behind his head. "How do you feel?"

"Tired. Other than that I feel fine."

"Water?" Fenton pointed to the pitcher on the bedside table.

Frank nodded and watched while his father poured a cup, which he drank quickly. Settling back against the pillows he looked at his father inquiringly. "So what exactly happened? I know Gloria finally got to me, but the details are pretty fuzzy."

"Apparently Gloria was waiting for you when you got home after going out with Joe last night. She was waiting in the bushes next to the porch," Fenton began to explain.

"No wonder I never saw her. I drove by the house and around the block before I even pulled into the driveway. I was so careful about checking across the street before I walked out of the garage. It never even occurred to me that she'd be so close." Frank shook his head in disgust. "Where'd she end up taking me?"

"To the house she was renovating. The one she had left to her son. Thank God Joe remembered it or we never would have found you in time." Fenton's voice betrayed the calm look on his face.

Frank looked around again frowning, the absence of his younger brother finally registering. "Where is Joe? And _how_ is he?" He vaguely recalled how upset Joe had been.

"He's at home getting a few hours of sleep." Fenton checked his watch. "But he'll probably be back any minute now. And he's fine now that he knows you're going to be all right."

"So Joe knew right where to look for me?" Frank smiled. _'I knew you could do it, Bro.'_

"He remembered you saying that Gloria Sansom had a house that she had left to her son and that she was renovating it in anticipation of moving in herself. He knew the house would either be in her name or her son's. Vanessa used your computer and had the address within ten minutes." There was an unmistakable note of pride in Fenton's voice. "I called Sam and told him what happened. By the time Joe and I got to the house, Gloria had already been arrested and taken to jail and the EMT's were working on you. When we got to the hospital Sam told us Gloria had made a full confession."

Frank frowned in concentration for a moment, trying to recall what Gloria had said to him before the drug had taken effect. "She told me we couldn't keep our gifts. She had some warped idea that since her son was the first one born on that day and he was gifted, that anyone else born on that day who also had some special talent, had to lose it because Blake did. She kept rambling on about how we all had to follow the same path he did and I was the "last one". She told me that as soon as she took away my "gift", her mission would be complete." Frank shuddered at the recollection, looking at his father apprehensively. "Dad, if you hadn't found me in time, would it have worked? Would I really be…" Frank let his voice trail off, not even wanting to voice that fear.

Fenton nodded. "Unfortunately, yes. Gloria knew exactly what she was doing."

As Frank contemplated this thought, the door opened and Callie rushed in. Before he knew what had happened, Frank was enveloped in a hug so tight he almost had to gasp for breath. Hearing Callie cry softly, Frank wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

"Sshhhh. Don't cry, Babe. I'm fine," Frank said softly, watching as his father discreetly left the room.

"I...kn…know…" Callie stuttered, not wanting to let him go just yet.

Scooting over a little, Frank pulled Callie onto the bed next him and held her. As she laid her head down on his chest, sniffling every now and then, he ran his fingers through her hair, inhaling the scent of her perfume.

"I was so scared, Frank," Callie said quietly a few moments later, holding onto him as if she'd never let go. "The doctors weren't sure if they'd gotten to you in time. I think last night was the longest night of my life."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that. But the doctors said I should make a complete recovery. They said I'll be tired for several days, but as long as I take it easy, I'll be good as new in no time. Okay?" Frank lifted her chin so he could look into Callie's eyes and smiled.

"Okay," she whispered as Frank leaned down and kissed her. When they finally broke apart several minutes later, Callie stopped to catch her breath before speaking. "But don't you _ever_ scare me like that again!"

"Promise." Frank leaned in for another kiss.

"Hey!" A loud, boisterous voice echoed through the room. "Haven't I warned you before about those public displays of affection?!"

Looking up, Frank saw Joe standing with Vanessa, grinning happily.

"That you have," Frank replied wickedly, pulling Callie close and planting a kiss on her that almost made Joe blush.

When Frank looked at his brother again a moment later, Joe winked at him. "Not bad, not bad at all. You're learning."

Callie disentangled herself from Frank sheepishly and stood up, looking slightly flushed. Vanessa laughed out loud. "Don't worry, Cal. You get used to it after a while." Leaving Joe's side, Vanessa walked over to Frank and hugged him. "So how are you feeling? The doctors said you'd probably be tired."

"Yeah, I am. But they said after a few days rest I'll be fine."

"I'm glad." Vanessa stepped out of the way as Joe came to stand beside her.

"Nice to have you back." Joe smiled, his eyes shining brightly.

"It's nice to be back," Frank replied. He was about to thank Joe for ensuring he was found and treated so quickly but the door opened once again as Laura and Fenton entered.

Callie, Joe and Vanessa all stepped aside, allowing Laura access to her son, whom she hugged fiercely.

"Here it comes," Joe whispered loudly. "The mother checklist." However a stern look from Laura and a light smack on the shoulder from Fenton brought a quick halt to whatever else Joe was going to say.

Turning back to Frank, Laura began interrogating him on how he felt, what the tests had revealed, and what the doctors had told him until she was satisfied that he would indeed make a complete recovery. The Hardys spent the remainder of the evening celebrating the good news and making plans for Frank's release the following morning.

oooOOOooo

Two days later Frank was relaxing on the couch as Callie bustled about the house getting ready to leave for work.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay home?" she asked concerned. "It's not a problem."

"I'm fine, Cal. All I'm going to do is sleep. I don't need a babysitter for that," Frank replied. "Besides, I'm sure Joe will be here as soon as he drags himself out of bed…around noon!"

"Well…if you're sure." Callie walked over to him, placing the phone on the end table, making sure it was within easy reach. Leaning down, she kissed him goodbye. "Now call me if you need anything. I can be home in a few minutes."

"Stop worrying," Frank laughed. Hearing the front door open, he and Callie exchanged a surprised look, wondering who would be visiting them this early.

"Anybody home?" Joe's voice rang out.

"In here," Callie replied. "Call me later," she said to Frank as she walked out of the living room, stopping to greet Joe with a quick hug before disappearing out the front door.

Frank looked up and smiled, pleasantly surprised to see his brother so early in the morning. "Hi, Joe. What are you doing here?"

"What you're not happy to see me?" Joe pretended to be hurt, dropping himself into the recliner.

"I'm always happy to see you. I'm just not used to seeing you this early in the morning when we're not working."

Joe shrugged. "Couldn't sleep this morning." The grin on his face wasn't quite able to mask the uneasiness in his voice. "So I figured I'd come over here and annoy you."

"Ah. I see," Frank said simply. Settling back down on the couch, Frank waited, now knowing there was a reason for Joe's early morning visit. He listened patiently as Joe talked about sports, Vanessa, the weather, Vanessa, food, Vanessa – doing anything and everything to avoid talking about whatever was bothering him and growing more restless by the minute.

When Joe finally stopped rambling, Frank thought his brother was now wound up so tight he might just snap. Despite the fact that Joe was seated in the chair, he seemed to be in a state of perpetual motion. The way his eyes constantly darted around the room, purposely avoiding Frank's gaze, told Frank everything he needed to know.

'_Rashman.'_

"Joe, is there something specific you'd like to talk about?" Frank asked gently, giving Joe the opening he needed. "Because I'm ready to listen if you're ready to talk."

Joe looked at him tentatively. "Are you sure?" Joe wasn't even sure _he_ really wanted to talk about this. "You really wouldn't mind?"

"I'm sure, Joe," Frank reassured him. Sitting up, Frank propped a pillow behind him and got comfortable, giving Joe his complete and undivided attention.

After a few false starts, Joe began to speak. Slowly and quietly at first but then the words started coming faster and faster, a jumble of emotions and fears pouring out, landing in Frank's lap and in his heart. At first, Frank found his rage and anger increased rapidly as he listened to Joe describe the first – and the worst – of the tortures Rashman had administered; the one that had been literally seared into Joe's memory. The one that would leave physical scars, making it impossible for Joe to ever forget it.

Frank's eyes followed his brother's movements as Joe instinctively grabbed his left arm, the unconscious habit feeding the fury that was eating away at Frank. At one point, Joe was pulling on his arm so hard Frank winced, certain he was about to hear a "pop" or a "crack". As difficult as it was seeing Joe so vulnerable and scared, it served to help Frank to regain control of himself and his emotions.

As he forced the burning desire for revenge back down into the place in his soul where it smoldered day after day, Frank calmed down considerably and once again became the composed, patient, supportive older brother Joe depended on. While he occasionally offered a word of advice or encouragement, Frank spent most of the time simply listening as Joe let out all the doubts, fears and worries he'd kept bottled up inside for so long.

It was close to two hours later when Joe finally became quiet again and that's when Frank saw _what_ had happened, although he didn't know _when_ it had happened. At some point Joe had moved, apparently needing not only Frank's emotional support but some kind of physical closeness as well. Joe was now seated on the couch next to Frank, the side of his leg pressed up against Frank's. Frank realized he was gently rubbing Joe's back and by the way his arm was aching, he must have been doing it for quite a while. As Joe remained silent, staring down at his hands, Frank suddenly wondered if this had been such a good idea. He knew nothing about psychology. Whatever made him think he could help Joe through this, when a licensed and degreed therapist couldn't do it?

Frank studied his brother for a moment and when he saw what Joe was doing, or rather what he _wasn't_ doing, he felt a tidal wave of relief wash over him. While Joe was still fidgeting slightly, he was no longer protectively clutching his left arm. In fact, he wasn't touching it at all. When Joe finally looked up, meeting his brother's gaze, Frank knew without a doubt he had done the right thing. He vowed if this was Joe's reaction to their talk about the hell he had endured in Chicago, it would be the first of many.

The apprehension and anxiety that had been clearly visible in Joe's eyes when he began talking had completely disappeared, having been replaced with the elusive sparkle that had been starting to make a reappearance in recent weeks. There was a hint of a smile on Joe's face and Frank got the feeling that Joe's infectious laugh was hovering just below the surface.

"Thanks," Joe said simply, the little smile growing bigger.

"You're welcome." Without warning, Frank let out a huge yawn and felt nothing but happiness when Joe burst into laughter.

"I don't usually have _that_ effect on people!" Joe teased his brother, holding up a hand before Frank could apologize. "Don't worry about it. You're supposed to be resting and here I am talking your ear off. Why don't you go upstairs and take a nap so you can get away from me for a little while, huh?"

Frank yawned once more, unable to stop himself. "Mmmm. That sounds good." He stood up. "You gonna hang around?"

"Would you mind if I did?" Joe asked. "Vanessa's at work, Dad barred me from the office today…. I have no where to go," he finished pathetically.

"Of course I don't mind. See if you can find something to amuse yourself for a few hours and then I'll come down and beat you at few games, okay?"

"Yeah, in your dreams!" Joe snorted as Frank made his way upstairs for a much needed nap.

Standing up, Joe wandered over to the collection of games by the TV looking for something to help pass the time. As he perused the titles, Joe became a little overwhelmed as it suddenly struck him that the vast majority of games had been purchased with _him_ in mind. He could pick out maybe one or two titles that he knew Frank would happily play on his own. The rest, Joe knew, Frank wouldn't even look at if he weren't there too.

Picking one of his favorites, Joe popped it into the slot, picked up the controls and walked back to the couch. As he waited for the game to start, Joe looked up towards the ceiling, thanking the higher power that had blessed him with a brother he was never quite sure he deserved.


	30. Chapter 30

And we've reached the end… Thank you SO MUCH to Helen, Polaris, Alicia, Calathiel, josie, MissMe113, Miss Fenway, pally, no1butjoe, Liz, amblewat, Iola, Amal, AZ Writer, ukfan101, Mischieftheblackwolf, penguincrazy, jabh, Cheryl, TraSan, franknjoe, BitterLee and Nomi for your comments. Every single review was greatly appreciated and many times it was your thoughts that made me smile on days that were not so happy. You guys rock. Hope you enjoy the conclusion.

THANK YOU!!! :D

**Happy Birthday**

**Chapter 30**

_"Happy Birthday to you, _

_Happy Birthday to you, _

_Happy Birthday dear Frank, _

_Happy Birthday to you!"_

As the festive song concluded, Frank glanced around at his family and friends gathered in a private room at Prito's restaurant to celebrate his twenty-fifth birthday. His eyes lingered on Joe and Vanessa a moment longer than the others. Leaning over the large chocolate cake, he silently made his wish and blew out the candles. Amid the clapping and laughter, Frank looked at the young couple once again, hoping birthday wishes really did come true.

After cutting the first slice of cake, Frank walked about the room, chatting with everyone and feeling so grateful that Gloria Sansom's plan to make him her final victim had been brought to a screeching halt. He shuddered thinking of what kind of birthday he'd be having otherwise.

Once the massive cake had been consumed, the presents were opened with Frank overcome at the generosity of those who loved him. By the time he was finished almost an hour later he had amassed a truckload of gifts including new computer programs and components and a few high-tech toys he had only dreamed about.

As everyone mingled, enjoying the food, drink and music, Frank sought out the one person he'd been trying to talk to all night, without much success. In the days since Frank had been released from the hospital, Callie had told him more than once, how Vanessa had been a pillar of strength, never leaving Callie's side and refusing to let her believe anything other than the happiest of endings.

Seeing Vanessa had just ended a conversation with Liz Webling and was now alone, Frank made his move, knowing Joe would be by her side in a heartbeat if he saw her standing by herself. Smiling as he approached, Frank discreetly nodded to an out of the way corner of the room. Vanessa willingly obliged, following him until he stopped and smiled at her gratefully.

"I just wanted to say thanks. Callie told me she would have completely fallen apart if not for you. Thanks for being there for her." Frank leaned in slightly and kissed her on the cheek, mindful of keeping a little distance between himself and Vanessa.

"She's been there for me more times than I can count this year. Me _and_ Joe. Compared to what she's done for us – what you've _both_ done for us – it doesn't even scratch the surface." Vanessa reached out and hugged Frank tightly. "I'm so glad you're okay, Frank."

"Hey, what's going on here?!" Joe gave his brother a playful slap on the back. "What, one woman isn't enough for you now? You want mine too? Getting pretty frisky there in your old age, eh, big brother?" he teased.

Frank glanced from Vanessa to Joe and back again, winking at her. "Somehow I don't think I could ever replace you, Joe."

"You got that right," Joe agreed with a mischievous smile. "I'm irreplaceable."

"Oh, please." Vanessa rolled her eyes as Frank chuckled to himself, and walked away to rejoin his guests.

A while later Frank passed by the table where he'd sat during dinner. He noticed a small present on the chair and leaned down to pick it up assuming it must have gotten missed in the commotion of opening all the other presents.

Instinctively, Frank knew he was being watched. Looking up, he gazed around the crowded room until his eyes came to rest on his younger brother. Joe was leaning against the opposite wall, staring at him with an expression Frank couldn't quite read, his blue eyes never wavering. Nodding in acknowledgement, Frank opened the card and read the note written in Joe's sloppy scrawl.

'**Frank,**

**Somehow, I lost faith in myself, but you found it and gave it back to me. I found something you lost a while ago. It seems only fair that I give it back to you.**

**Happy Birthday, Big Brother.**

**Love, Joe'**

Glancing up, Frank saw that Joe was still watching him intently, his face giving no clue as to what the cryptic message could mean. Tearing off the wrapping paper, Frank opened the box only to find another box inside – a velvet hinged box that could only contain some type of jewelry.

Slowly opening the lid, Frank looked at the heavy, gold ID bracelet, polished to such a brilliant shine it was almost blinding. Carefully, lifting it out of the box, he looked at the engraving fully expecting to see his name. However, as the simple word etched into the bracelet registered, Frank's heart caught in his throat and he found it difficult to swallow. A shiver ran down his spine and he looked up once more, this time frantically searching for his brother's face, unable to see clearly, his vision blurred with unshed tears. Blinking rapidly, Frank continued looking for Joe a moment longer with no success.

Temporarily giving up the search, Frank's eyes were drawn back to the bracelet and the single word inscribed on it. He could only stare, in shocked disbelief. _'You_ _have no idea what this means, Joe. It's the most precious gift I will ever receive.'_

Frank slipped the bracelet on his wrist. Other than his wedding ring, he never wore jewelry, but somehow the bracelet felt right. Right then and there, he promised himself it would never come off. The simple bracelet represented just as much to him as his cherished wedding ring.

"Oh, that's beautiful!" Callie exclaimed coming up beside him. "Who is it from?"

"Joe," Frank replied quietly.

"What does it say?" Callie asked, as she looked at the strangely beautiful Chinese symbols, the single word written in the ancient language of the martial art Frank had spent over half his life studying. When he replied, she detected an undercurrent of raw emotion in Frank's voice that he allowed very few people to hear.

"It...It says…" Frank closed his eyes swallowing hard, trying to steady his voice. "It says '_**Trust'**_," he whispered. Looking up, he slowly scanned the room, his search for his brother fruitless.

"I think he went outside," Callie said softly, knowing exactly who Frank was looking for.

Nodding silently, Frank headed for the exit. Stepping outside the restaurant, Frank saw Joe off to the right, sitting on the curb looking up at the star-filled night sky. Walking over to his brother, Frank sat down next to him. "You okay?" he asked, wondering why Joe was outside all alone, knowing he usually reveled in being the center of attention at any party.

Joe smiled. "Fine. It was just getting a little…stuffy…in there."

"I know what you mean," Frank murmured, his gaze drawn to the bracelet.

"You like it?" Joe asked hesitantly. He'd been a little nervous about the gift he'd chosen, knowing Frank never wore jewelry. Joe had hoped it would mean enough to Frank that he might wear it for special occasions.

"Yeah." Frank held his arm out. The bracelet caught in the moonlight and shone brightly. "I like it a lot. Thanks."

"You're welcome," Joe responded, a little hitch in his voice.

"It sure beats a pair of socks," Frank said seriously.

Joe turned and looked at his brother and very slowly began to chuckle. This in turn, caused Frank to begin laughing and within seconds, the two brothers had tears of laughter streaming down their faces. It was several minutes before the laughter finally subsided as each time Frank or Joe would calm down, they'd look at the other one and erupt into howls of laughter again.

"Hey, I never got to thank you," Frank smiled.

"Thank me? For what?" Joe asked, puzzled.

"Saving me from that crazy woman."

"Frank, I didn't save you. Sam Peterson and his men and the EMT's – they're the ones you should be thanking," Joe said adamantly.

"Oh, really?" Frank challenged him. "That's not what Dad says. _OR_ Sam. According to them, you're the one who figured out where I'd been taken and had Vanessa track down the address in record time. Dad said if you hadn't figured it all out so quickly…well let's just say I'd be celebrating my _fifth_ birthday again instead of my _twenty_-fifth."

Joe shook his head. "I'd rather _not_ say that, if it's all the same to you. I have no desire whatsoever to be the big brother."

Frank grinned at him. "Why? Are you afraid you'll end up with a kid brother like _you_?"

"You're lucky you have me!" Joe shot back, pretending to be offended. "Do you have any idea how bored you'd be without me in your life?"

Frank leaned back on his elbows, looking up at the night sky wistfully. "Ah…peace….quiet….I can only dream about it."

"Hey!" Joe punched him on the arm in protest and then turned serious for a moment. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why did you accept Gloria Sansom's invitation to have coffee that day?"

Frank shrugged. "I don't really know. I know she was using me as a stand in for her son. I guess I just felt sorry for her, you know?"

"But she was a psycho."

"Yes, but I didn't realize that at the time," Frank reminded him. "Apparently only _you_ did and you weren't exactly sharing information that day."

"She probably used half of what you told her against you, making it that much easier for her to grab you and… just don't EVER do that again!" Joe admonished him. "_You're_ the one who's supposed to get _me_ out of trouble! I'm not sure I like that whole role reversal thing, so I'd just as soon not do it again."

"Okay, but you have to do me a favor in return," Frank said.

"What's that?"

"Next time you decide to talk yourself out of listening to your gut instincts…_DON'T_!"

Joe grinned. "You got it, partner!"

oooOOOooo

A few hours later, Frank was standing in the restaurant with Callie, Joe, Vanessa, Laura and Fenton, the party having ended and the presents now safely packed up, waiting to be transported home. As they stood chatting not quite ready to for the evening to end, Frank smiled noting that Joe was standing behind Vanessa, his arms wrapped securely around her waist. Vanessa had her fingers intertwined with Joe's and was leaning back against him contentedly.

"So," Joe smiled at his brother, looking happier than Frank could remember, "did you get everything you wished for?"

"I don't know," Frank responded mysteriously, glancing at Vanessa. "Did you get the test results back yet?"

Vanessa looked over her shoulder at Joe as their eyes locked on each other, momentarily shutting out the rest of the world. They beamed at one another, Joe pulling her just a little closer.

"Negative."

They said it in unison, as Joe hugged her tightly, hiding his face in her hair. Frank watched as Vanessa turned her head slightly and, running a hand through Joe's hair, she whispered something in his ear and then brushed her lips lightly against his cheek.

Frank glanced down at the gleaming ID bracelet adorning his wrist. "Yeah, Joe," he said softly. "All my wishes came true."

**THE END**


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